tagErotic PoetryPheromone




Lilt the thrill of finger lace
thread in skin – spiral life
twisting in information, the pulse
staining her in milky white.

Despite the night she rises
anticipating him, his touch again
and more, parting her silk
to taste a cherished depth

more than any whore - she responds,
his whispers and fingertips
penetrate the latex film
that once kept her sound.

Awash in possibility she winds
in fine chemise, the fabric fuels
a yearning as her fragrance moistens
each step she takes towards him.


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byMungoParkIII© 2 comments/ 7863 views/ 0 favorites

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