A candle burns in the blackness of night Sirens race by under neon and street lights Another hotel room a small lust filled fright
By W Adam Smythe5 years ago in Poets
Weeping moistened folds, fresh as morning dew. Tenderness inside, becoming one and one with you. Eating out can be quite nice, such a luscious taste. As passion starts to rise, I love to see your face.
