Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing


Night is gentle with us,

the sky stays a little longer,

blushing orange as it kisses the sea,

you kiss me,


and I am a calamity,

warm wherever your hands explore,

precious pads on my fine floral prints.

Menthol meets the wine you had an hour ago,

your tongue,

talking softly to my painted lips,

parting them,

slowly but with great authority,

and I know that I belong to you,


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