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i force you to ponder, but you make me wonder, too. the sensation of my love cascading down onto you - how does it feel?
gazing down at you as you treat the enigmatic, coveted part of me hidden to the world as if it's the rarest delicacy, seeing you tongue-deep in my passion - could i even stand it?
day by day, i vehemently daydream about us, so many ways that we could've rewritten the fucking kama sutra, girl.
this lust is more vast than just you and i. it's nothing short of natural. i could taunt you forever on how you're curious about my flavor, but i'm curious as to how nature feels. my rain on the petals that are your lips, how to be savored, what singing your name with my head thrown to the heavens (because i'm just that gone)...
yes, curiosity plagues me; it's burning me whole, and i'd like to know. best part is, you'd never turn down an invitation to give me a demonstration....
YOU ARE READING
past oblivion.
Poetry"what can i really say?" used to be my words, when i didn't know as much. when i got older, i responded to myself. "everything." now, i realize that i can use my breath to speak on everything in existence, from dust on jupiter to the depths of hell...
