He was my geisha with the red hot heat. Gun in his jacket. Body decorated with ink. Natural strength. Built like a wall. Tender touch. Worst trait of them all.
1 Pages:1
Please Rate This Submission:
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- Recent
Comments - Add a
Comment - Send
Feedback Send private anonymous feedback to the author (click here to post a public comment instead).
There are no recent comments - Click here to add a comment to this poem