- Erotic Poetry
- The Heartist
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The science of touch, she understood.
The language of the eyes, she mastered.
The warm tickling fingers of hers,
Stringing the nerves together,
Until it sets your heart ablaze...
There you rest, anticipating and lost...
However bushy... However slimy...
However murky... However wet...
She just wants it...
You call it cheating...
You call it adultery...
She doesn't live by your rules,
But lives off her nudes...
The experience doesn't look or feel
Like something you should pay for,
But you keep paying anyway...
So, when you open her legs,
On a cold Sunday evening like this,
You open a new chapter of sweaty adventure...
The rhythm of breath, the moaning sounds
And cruising ride...
Sends a cold shiver down your spine...
She rolls her eyes and you know
You've found it...
Here, the story of the Artist who
Stole your man's heart...
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