Hope seems to flee with time missing pages of life I linger in faded ink of masks verses of a slow burn forged in fires of lust As I hold your photograph escaping into a dream weeping tears of blue feeling your fingers near with scarlet lips of crimson With a scent of the new dawn as your ears listen on the pillow your thighs quiver until you awake verses of a slow burn forged in fires
from Lush Stories - latest Sex Stories http://bit.ly/2IukBtQ
0 comments:
Post a Comment