The Perfect stalk
And he loves it.
Holds me in his arms
Hugs me against his neck
I hope his heart can feel my tremble
And his hands can forever keep mine warm.
His fingers dance skillfully on my skin
He handles every thorn on me gently
His breath warms my soul
With his lips drawing ceremonials from mine.
My fragile becomes his fountain of strength
I can see his halo every time he rocks me-
There’s pleasure every time he plucks a part of me
He deflowers me…
Thank you for stopping by