Art · Blank Verse · Digital drawing · Drawing/Sketch · free verse · Line art · lust and desire · poetry · Portraits

Lustfuly yours.

Milady,

your sense is not of,

yet to me;

It is.

Senora,

Muy corazon may be yours,

not for a price,

not for a piece of;

then how am I to be.

Thine lips,

moist and gleaming with red glossy,

oh how i churn and turn,

Only a blink of yours makes me a puddle soon to be;

splashed around.

Oh your illustrious skin never leaves your side.

I am tempted and would be yours truly,

not a dog panting and humping,

not a tongue wagging and gagging by the look of your glances.

Oh mercy me. . .

Oh my sweet,

Can I be yours until,

. . .

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