40: Lines
You whisper delicate lines
between each kiss
I hung on like death
Everyting you do it toturous
my passion burning within
to the promised sunrise
The secret sweet
tingling my lips
making my heart hammer
My body ecstatic
every touch a pure bliss
the sound of ecstasy
Your sight can knock on
behind a closed door
no words left to say
words mean nothing now
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: