My hands gripping my thighs
Wishing yours was there instead
They're crawling closer and closer
I do what you tell me
Hands pressed against my warmth
Heating up what has been cold
My hips rocking against your words
Am I a good girl?
No more words from you
You've gone cold
again.
YOU ARE READING
I'm Sensitive
PoetryTroubled souls dwell here for tales ranging from love to heartache, Sadness to lust, etc. Enjoy...
