Drawn

I’ve drawn you,

Each stroke I thought “I’m lucky this is mine”.

Tracing your form,

Stopping to stare at your perfect lines.

My art a mere copy of what this world gave in you.

My work never giving justice no matter how I do.

I’ve drawn you,

I think to have you here in my hands.

Tracing your perfect form,

Wishing life into my creation as each stroke expands.

…That Night

I wish that night could have lasted forever
It was a pandemic across my body
Little death after little death

You and I in the shadows of that room
The freedom we felt, the lust we could smell
Our tongues were in a delirium

There was no ambiguity
Only pure sugar-sweet pleasure
And I had never been so high, so happy

We were each others confessor that night
My mouth and your cock
Your mouth and my pussy

đź–¤

Sacrilege

Lord have mercy on my soul,

For given the chance I’d consume her whole.

I’d watch her dance, make her moves,

Then my turn would come to make my move.

I’d force her down, I’d open her up,

I’d take what’s mine, I’d eat then fuck.

Lord have mercy on my soul,

For my thoughts and deeds dig my hole.

The grave in which I’ll eternally sit,

For my thoughts for her are pure sacrilege.

My tell

Invisible, tiny fireworks

Sending shrapnel loose

I peek at my skin

Bumpy like a goose

Your words a melody

Heard then set loose

You! My literary sensation!

My soul surges forth

Delivers an ovation

I scream as loud as I can

My body rigid with the effort

Of keeping it on the inside

Until my tears break free

Refusing to comply

Revealing the tell

Of when my emotions swell