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Warm Bedchips
Warm bedchips and pleasures of the flesh
pulsing through veins longing never to wake
on jugular strings where doves never sail
deep within your pale blue denim eyes
between obsession and insanity
of cold fingers and stained soul
still growing your wildflowers
pulsing through veins longing never to wake
on jugular strings where doves never sail
deep within your pale blue denim eyes
between obsession and insanity
of cold fingers and stained soul
still growing your wildflowers
Published 25th Jul 2024
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Anonymous
25th Jul 2024 10:31pm
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25th Jul 2024 10:59pm
