Could I love you,
Could you love me,
Could I love me,
Could you love you?
Still don't kiss yet,
Not until you know when;
We won't know Shame.
Slowly, slowly
I fill you,
you ruffle me,
delightfully.
Particularly,
You are mine.
A match so thorough,
color me yours.
Let you
Let me
Let we
Let's meet!
Have a seat,
Oh, so sweet.
Keep Keep.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Taylor Ryan and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Blue Ridge Stalker
Tom had left the Ford down the way, its spark plugs finally exhausted and no mechanics for a dozen miles back through the foothills to Strossburg. No matter, he had worn his boots—almost as if he planned for this to happen. The puzzle he sought to solve emanated from the woods clinging to the slopes above; the valley behind held no mysteries.
By Stephen A. Roddewig6 days ago in Fiction
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