I want you to learn me with hungry palms nimble fingers that slowly undo buttons hooks zippers until fabric falls away into silken puddles at my
Category: Erotica
Night is a Crime in My Mouth (Revisited)
night is a crime in my mouth waiting to unfold on my taste buds notes of tart black cherry plum pomegranate white oak night is
Poetry in Motion
your palms remember warm silk of my skin travel the contours of my curves and edges your lips remember my coffee scented kiss softness into
Clay
There are days And nights Where the only thing Keeping me from Sliding completely into the abyss From becoming a shapeless Nameless blob of ectoplasm
Skin (revisited)
It is rumored that there are 50 words In the Eskimo language for snow I ponder Why are there not 50 words in the English
#tbt Saturday Afternoon Poetry
bare skin glides against my rough edges like warm sand you buff my contours smooth mouth tracing the trail of my vertebrae you become cartographer of
Manic Monday
Can you run your hands over my bare back? Tangle your fingers in my hair? Draw me into your arms make me liquid Help me
