Posted in Alcohol, bpd, Erotica, mental health, Mysterious, poetry

Cranberry Lips

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Cranberry lips leave a thin line around the rim

He doesn’t remove it- thinks it’s hot and I’m fine

Wet lips explore his mouth and he tastes me like sweet candy

Relishing the intimate moments we’re daring to share

In the quiet of the moonlight we take our time to touch

To feel his large hands cupping me it’s almost. too. much.

Love or lust? Does it matter? Do I care?

His dark eyes and warm tan body makes me want to sin

Suddenly we are skin to skin and my hand rubs up and down him.

Author:

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

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