l*****a
发帖数: 12 | 1 Twenty-seven ladies came that night
We melted in tongue-tied delight
"Don't do it!"
You whispered, little resolute
Guilty conscience kills you,
Tasting that salty sinister pleasure
On my ring finger
Where hundred-proof liquor spilt
If only I could peel you 'part
Finding her inside
So I squeezed and licked a bit
No less apologetic than triumphant
Perhaps I smelled in you
a lady butterfly, lashes trembling
Like your pulverous wings and indulging
In the rose garden before you die.
But her name’s E |
|
