it is upon your soft skin,
that I write my poems to you,
most are crimson red, some are purple
sometimes even with a hint of baby blue.
all that's left is to let you see,
my sinful intentions only if you agree.
to let me feast on your divine body,
and let that be my ravishing decree.
to get my butterfly mark planted,
and treat you with proper courtesy,
she said take nothing for granted;
summon me and you shall be free.
lunch time in the back alley,
there we were; fucking.
unraveling our animalistic needs.
YOU ARE READING
ʟᴜʟʟᴀʙʏ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀʀs
Poetry"𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗎𝗉, 𝖨 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖨'𝗆 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗎𝗉𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗒𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗄...
