The dark haired woman,
the quiet one;
with hair tucked
with small flowers,
her warmth radiating
through the dark and cold night.
With her hazey eyes
buried in a book,
fingers pressed between
her rosy nipple,
as she knew what was coming
and what it took.
The restless summer tainted legs
have spread underneath her sheets
shivering as she moved gently on top of her bed.
Her secrets were all
well hidden, and all well kept
in between all the pages,
that her very own eyes have read.
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...
