love, lust, poetry, touch, Uncategorized, women

A sweet pulsing dream 

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My fingers

Holding

Stroking

Hurting

Pinching

Ravishing

A sweet

Pulsing dream

More real

Than routines

Than compromised

Concessions

They do not beg

Or make an argument

For their skill

And worth

Your sucking warmth

A route to carnal

freedoms

Kissing each fingertip

In turn

Your perfumed musk

Sweet against

My skin

Now bring your

Cupids bow mouth

Further

Deeper

Harder

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