━━━━━━
Your hands on my neck,
tracing pathways of passion,
their touch swirls in my skin,
never once leaving me barren.
You press down harder,
supressing my laughter,
cutting me down by the gallon,
your wrath as fiery as a dragon.
By the time I realise,
how much I have idealised,
it is too late for me to escape,
from this eternal hellscape.
━━━━━━
YOU ARE READING
Unspoken Serenades: Poetry
PoetryA collection of my poetry. I am quite the amateur so don't expect anything ground-breaking. This book will feature romantic, erotic and humorous poetry. It will serve as a poetry journal and will be updated regularly whenever I happen to write somet...
