"creeak" poems
Down the stairs, to the left. Creeeak... Step... Step...
His door closed, I creep up... Click!... Creeak... Unlocked;
Closed door, lights dim, dark red with lust;
Hours late, he plays me such as he does his violin.
Bodies tight, musk, and my perfume.
Start off slow, savor the taste, his mouth on mine, non to waste.
Sweat and kisses, bites my neck; Slides in, and plays his deck.
Nov 13, 2024
Nov 13, 2024 at 8:16 PM UTC