your fingers glide across my satin skin
like they do the crystal glass,
making me sing for only your ears to hear.
the red wine from the glass
complements the dark lipstick
smeared on your neck.
YOU ARE READING
growing seeds from wilted roses
Poetrydear reader, my friend, please be gentle for you are reading pieces of my heart written onto these pages for your eyes to read and for your heart to feel.
