I’m going to wage war with your soul that despises love.
Ravished by past lovers who failed to engage with its essence.
I’ll dive and torpedo into your heart like a dagger aiming for the bull’s-eye.
Make love to your senses.
Pour my words into your ear canals like chocolate onto your taste buds.
Blind you like Stevie—tunnel visioned, seeing only me.
Make you bite and taste your lips as you imagine them mating with mine.
Mentalist tendencies:
I touch your soul, and the quake is felt on your skin like an orgasmic rash.
Douse you with thoughts of that Dylan Blue fragrance I wear religiously.
Create love-synapses in your brain’s neural network—
until all you ever hear, see, taste, touch, and smell…
is Dee.
I want to own you.
About the Creator
Mischief Muchaneta
A geek but I turn green when I write. I dabble in short prose and poetry. A quiet STORM…


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