She’ll cut necks as they double take; give another look, and she’ll snap the nape. Speak in tongues, she’ll reciprocate black powder lungs, bullets a three word phrase. “I love you” parades her lip stain; give another look, and your inhibition is slain. Advance in a cold sweat and maybe this lady will undress for a man she just met. Please, garments of gourmet lemon dresses drench your bed. Coated soft sugary plums plump all about your cherry dropped head. Heart comatose arose faster than you came with her to your bed but as it stands, she’s standing in front of you naked…it’s been in your head. You can see it; the shadows playing tricks: Hugging, the lighting, making things fit. And a dress confines nothing more than a support, but she isn’t sporting a harbor, her ships can’t port.
Posted on: Wed, 19 Jun 2013 02:00:36 +0000
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