crazy good poetry.
Death is a girl who lies naked & happy on my blanketed sofa.
Smiling thighs protrude like spies below the edges of her delicacy.
I worship her.
A Crimson throw cushions her flesh of youth & protects her joyful modesty from longing & my gaze.
Wrapped up in fun, she waits patiently as I write for her this gentle, little ode.
She promises me a kiss.
A slow tender, succulent intoxication of lust.
I desire her.
& I will caress her hair soon in moments of fond seduction.
Smooth warm shoulders watch my steady hand type.
I can see from here
Her undressed super sternum notch & the gentle descent of where I’d like to be.
Immaculate & pretty
Her face warms my sordid imagination.
I can see love in her eyes.
Sparkling pools of dreams.
I thirst for her kiss.
Her blood red finger nails await my pleasure.
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