Acidic Art

Your Pleasure.

Grabbed my skin

Above my collar bones

Beneath my chin

Gripping, like it's your breath

That looks crimson

Not mine

And I'm smiling.

You play my strings

As if the harp was easy

Whispering to me

Sweet nothings

(You like to be in-control)

Your lips taste like honey,

And with every touch

I feel how the bees sound