
This must be the cure your laying hips offer
that lying lips can’t.
You reawaken my dying desire,
killed by hands that once felt like love.

You shelter my manhood in your garden’s pink diamond,
while other hearts have turned away.
You lure my withered lips to trace your curves,
drenching them in your feminine tide.
I create you as an ethereal demon, not an eternal goddess,
and pray that you don’t haunt my heart.

I don’t have a temple for your eternal love,
but I harbor a boat for the surreal waves of your caress.
I may not be your fighter with the sharpest sword,
but I am your humble lover,
with an honest pen
to carve love letters on your cosmic presence.

To all Feminines
Inspired by my muse Caitlin.
Rawm.
About the Creator
Lazywriter41
A spiritual being caught in between heaven, earth, and hell.



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