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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