My red dots
Love me
Embrace me
Caress the skin
They fuck me
Like no other
Turn me into
Ten million
Different types of
Orgasm
They nurture my
Dilapidated babies
And console me
With the lights off
Whether it be morning,
Noon or isolating night
They turn me into
A street beggar
And throw me change
Spare scraps
From their bruised
Pockets
They are fortune bound
And I am fortunate
For having them
For they love me
They smell like prickly
Vines
And feel like cotton wool
On my thankful flesh
I am comfortable with them
And they reciprocate unconditionally.
Comments
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Yes..when you speak truth it is very hard to express in the words..but it the poetry which take load of our sentiments with its beautiful expression..and you did that..
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Thank you for your comment my friend. This is stark.
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