| Filed under

Contributor: Patroclus

- -
Nicks of your beauty behold me
Compel to do bad things to you
Aphrodisiac is the forlornness
My wonts are commencing to seize

Will you make love to me
My passions, rocketing
Whims on high alert
We proceed slowly

I've been conking out to feel you
On my body and the soul
These colourful riots
Shouldn’t cease in a shock
It breaks my bosom
That my calf-love is conventional
Why I’m not being looked at
Even with a grimace

A genteel eroticism
Lies buried in fantasies
Oh my bae, my prophecy
Keep on dreaming

- - -


Powered by Blogger.