Poetica 46

The walls grumble when you slam the door shut with a kick.
A fussy eater but apparently I’m your pick.
Your hands are frisky when you’ve been waiting all week.
They only move slowly when you find what you seek.
You have me fully on display when I only meant to peek.
Your fingers dancing their way up to my peak.
My eyes slightly close, forgetting you’re a sneak.
They soon open wide to find your body driving stick.

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