In rapture I bathed, cautious bones, stone still…
Her breath caught and I thought it was irreverent, but sexy
Shameful, shameful
I should not look at things from the pinpoint of a pig’s eye
Delirious sweats and needs, oh needs
Heated, heated
My desire out of control, does she know of my leaky valve
Pumping, pumping
Shameful, shameful
I should not look at things from the pinpoint of a pig’s eye
Delirious sweats and needs, oh needs
Heated, heated
My desire out of control, does she know of my leaky valve
Pumping, pumping
Yum. Especially this line: "Her breath caught and I thought it was irreverent, but sexy"
ReplyDeleteWell, I think the lady senses it. Perfect title
ReplyDeleteI am worrying about the leaky valve, with all that passion. Smiles. This poem has heat!
ReplyDeletecautious bones, stone still... great imagery!
ReplyDeleteMay the muse ever send you into raptures... after all, it is the Year of the Pig.
ReplyDeleteI think she knows! Wonderful imagery here.
ReplyDeleteWhat else is a Muse for if not to inspire rapture? (And to hell with the cost.)
ReplyDelete