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: 

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