Poetica 29

She smiled at me, as calm as a swearing in.
I was as excited as an independence day flag.
My hands swept her waistband trying to find a place to fit in.
Her nails drew moans from my soul, she had me in the bag.

She could no longer ignore the value of the kisses on her waist.
So taxing was it to fight the carnal nibbling on her skin.
Crystal dishes lost value, she offered her treasury for a taste.
On the customized kitchen table, her demands almost mean.

I invested in my words and so did her screams grow.
The tap now running, she was not the only one soaking me.
I kissed thighland and left the shore.
Then I went down, like the economy.

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