words come

i read the wind.
the words color me in shades
of scented gardenias.
the words take to the clouds,
and write their sex song.
i am churned by the scent of ecstasy.
my yoni rises to meet you
in between the rough sentences.
words come.
they come,
and come.
the wind writes its stories on my skin.
words come.
i arrive on the wind.

cloud-143152_1920-2016-04-30-11-34.jpg

leave a thought

error: Content is protected !!
%d bloggers like this:
WordPress Security