Wednesday, July 25, 2018

Hush.


 Hush. 
Now blindfold my eyes
 and let us begin 
with the warmth of your breath
 on the warmth of my skin.
 Hot rush creeping my thighs
 like that ivy in heat
 on the old cedar fence
 down my neighborhood street. 
Touch me not with your hands,
 and deny me your lips; 
instead coax only with words
 the subtle rise of my hips.
 Lush
 is the garden of pleasure now blooming
 Rich
 is the currency of lust all consuming. 

Hush.

~j~

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