It is not warm rain
that wets her parting petals
My sable touch
paints her frond moist
The taste of her arousal
only leaves me hungry
My stomach of lust
feasts on the fuel of her beauty
Her notes of ecstasy
dot the sex heavy air
Waves of crescendo
crash the rocks of orgasm
Only two over worked hearts
that thump to the rhythm of love
© Copyright 2016 Philip H20s. All rights reserved.
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