Tickled Pink

Soft, wet, pink lips;
The taste of primal urges.
Fruity, sticky fingertips
A nervous heartbeat surges.

Shaky hands on sweaty thighs
This flaming desire must be a dream.
The sound of pleasure-filled sighs,
Turns suddenly into a burning scream.

Collapsing onto each other�
Our heartbeats too fast to count.
Making the recipe & tossing the covers,
�You� plus �me� is the right amount.

Staring & smiling; eye to eye�
We�ve just made heaven real.
This puddle of sweat where our bodies now lie
Has been absorbed in the passion we feel.

-


This poem is original and copyright of Ben Ellsworth.
Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1