Our
body temperature
reaches the same level
as we lock our lust
with the warmth
of a kiss;
and the rages
of the anxious
touches...
The clock tells that
it's past midnight,
While we hoped longer sleep
under the jealous stars,
believing twilight is death.
reaches the same level
as we lock our lust
with the warmth
of a kiss;
and the rages
of the anxious
touches...
The clock tells that
it's past midnight,
While we hoped longer sleep
under the jealous stars,
believing twilight is death.
a hot imagery, well done.
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