I take no credit for the image. I found it on Google images search.
An expanse in the shape of an hourglass;
With all the angles of one too.
Up the center grows a porcelain tree.
Its branches, the definition of symmetry,
Are the perfect frame to drape ivory flesh upon.
At its base, two dimples as if
A maker’s mark for man, showing him
The best place for his hands
When he holds her.
I take no credit for the photo. I found it on a Google images search.
Hanging from hip bones.
Flat, sloping flesh.
Flexing inward.
Begging for the touch of my lips.
Framed by the low-ride of his jeans.
Leading me south toward his virility.
Petite poised person
Resplendent in red,
A simple a-line apparel and
Hellishly high heels,
Before a behemoth of
An abstract
Pollocked painting.
A contemporary cognitive contradiction?
Or a cherry colored canvas clear
And ready for ravishment?
Gender: Female.
As you can probably see, I have tits
(They’re smaller than I’d like but they’re there).
And I’m into guys. And shoes. And makeup.
But man when I catch the smell of gasoline
And I hear the practically-feline, smooth-talkings of a well-tuned engine
I get turned on
*
Age: 18-24.
Yes, I’m young and I like to have a good time.
I imagined myself a porn star.
I imagined my body that of a siren;
Gleaming with the sheen of manufactured sweat.
I imagined myself nude but cloaked in the armor of modern Amazons;
Mile high platform stilettos and a G-string.
I imagined myself with hair perfectly styled like it’s the “morning after”.
I imagined myself with a pair of tits that someone finds delicious.
I imagined myself your man’s every fantasy.
I imagined myself strong and self-assured.
I imagined the red of my lips a declaration Continue reading
642 Poems and More 