My lips, pink and petite,
Always falling short of love.

Most usually, burning against a
Flesh
Holding more toxins than my
Lungs find throughout the night.

And this tongue,
Trails deep within forbidden
Valleys,
Seeping moisture to the greatest
Of mistakes.

My pulse finds a way to give my
Hips a rhythm
To the symphonies of seduction.

Ballads of bed sheets.

I try to breeze through temptation,
Even in the cities of lust.

My mind lacks discretion
As I grip this desire...

She's  beautiful  in her own way,
She  smiles  even when she's having a bad day,
She can be  delicate  but she's still   strong ,
She's not  proud ,she admits her wrong,
Words don't bring her down,
She knows noone is worth turning her smile into a frown,
She doesn't look down on others,
She feels how it would be like to be one of their mothers,
She speaks her  mind ,
She believes in it there's wisdom someone could find.
She's a  hardworker ,
And she wouldn't ever want to be a heartbreaker,

But a heart mender she would be.
She can pray..
She's a woman,a great one.