That little skirt

That smell creeps in softly,
a slow moan creeps in,
reaching the corner of shame,
there, on the edge of that skirt.

You discover in me the craving,
the agitation, curiosity leads the way
reaching the until the…
wet of your sunrise.

Vibrating I hide under your lips,
the ideal shelter under this downpour;
fantasy where you are open sea
and I just sink.

Fragile moans when I am close,
a pact that wet the ears with the restless sound;
one that penetrates and abuses the sense,
until reaching the parallel monument, to ecstasy paradise.

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What a wet sunrise of emotions you bring us.




1 me gusta

Great poem, blending subtle and intense eroticism seamlessly.

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Thank for your reading.

1 me gusta

I appreciate your time.

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