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Desire blushes
then burns.
Locks the door,
switches off the light,
paints the faint trace
of a story.
In practiced local passion
a solitary participant
as delicate fingers
possess the softest of skin,
she enjoys her delight
silently.
<Deleted User> (7212)
Wed 21st Sep 2011 22:11
it sounds like "a girl thing".... can one come round & watch ?
John - no you're mixing that up with a blow job. Or Cadbury's is, one of the two. You'd be a bit worried if yer man was THAT flakey though, eh?
I don't get it.
I thought this was about eating a Cadbury's Flake on your own!
<Deleted User> (6895)
Wed 21st Sep 2011 12:44
with the use of my lewd mind
I thoroughly enjoyed this poem.
thanks Stell'
S.W.x
Heh - dorty mare ;p
Like Ray, I'm not too sure about 'petty' although it is useful for referring to 'small' etc - it's great sonically, mind
I enjoyed the first verse and most of the rest, but "petty local passions"? Seems quite the wrong words for it.
It's just a phase we go through for the rest of our lives.
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winston plowes
Thu 22nd Sep 2011 10:12
Hi Stella, This works. Its the words we can't read (the things we can see) that makes it work. I could join in with the crit of the petty line but what a great piece overall. Win x