Whatever is a girl to think when groping and fondling these words…a  private act that keeps me from being desperately bored. But, you’re looking at my hands-the perverts, playing like I’m a poet. They search out what can’t be seen and hide out in the trees, just waiting calmly for an opportunity-then, sees it and feels it and grabs it! With treasure in hand she sneaks sneakily along, looking for her study-Down the long dark hall she goes and quietly opens the door… Shades are drawn, what light there is glows dim…her prisoners in tow.                                                                                                                      

Author: Katestrawberry

I am a published author and writer/editor available for hire. I create abnormal, strange, and sometimes slightly erotic poetry. Crazy Girl. Creative Genius.

3 thoughts on “Desperate”

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