Touch me until I wither under your moist fingertips
Caressing my skin ever so softly
Butterfly kisses raining down my forehead
Back arching-
--Into that touch
Opening the pink orifice, emitting mewls of ecstasy
Write me a sonnet, lover,
That I may feel the silken touch of those curling petals
Upon my pained landscape of scars
Please, I cry
(
Read more... )