- Erotic Poetry
- Passions Flowering
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When lips to lips my love presses
In hopeful longing for my touch,
A blooming flower she caresses
With petals that quake beneath much
Desire, while I long for tresses
Draped on your tender skin and such.
My hand travails the empty space
Where flowers bloom in fragrant air
To hands that run a pleasing race,
And finished climax bees won’t dare;
My tongue will add to quickened pace
With musty treasures waiting there.
What joy of joys my beauty rides?
Her insides betray passions wake.
My rigid self warns fellow tides
As quake worn bodies ruptures make.
A treasured glow now fills insides
With hearts as one our rest we take.
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