Learn more about other poetry terms

Femme, femme, ô gentille femme Mon amour, ma fleur, mon entame Dans mon calepin journalier
It was him who found me. The giant with the calloused palms I was simply a form Clumsy in my gargantuan new body Horns piercing from my back;
Cunning, yet sweet, deceitful, but kind Please don't hurt her glass mind Cold to the touch and clear to understand She hopes no one sees the cuts she has The ones she makes with her very own hands
  I have a magic power
Here and there  Lip gloss on there lips   Toned body and curvy hips   They bend down   and i stare longer  than needed   I blush at my faux pas  All the things I coud do   to her 
Subscribe to Femme