Licentious promiscuous
wench licking words- words
from your mouth before they
are spoken
She frolics with her frozen
tongue down your throat
retrieving only what you
dare to speak
Her smile like fresh picked poppies lapping splintered aquamarine on the ninth day
Her voice ravages like a
coarse rhythmic ravens caw abusive to your frequency
She continues incessantly causing your face to wrinkle
like sheltered sin spurned
by a wall of stone stacked
tall by a crowd who works
best in darkness
©iris3690
I