Written Love
Warmth of your touch wrapped around my bod,
Pressure smooth and sweet felt upon my waist.
You slip into thought and down I do nod,
When excited, I’m sent into great haste.
In slight slowing gyrations do you guide my tip,
And turn me off and on by simple thumb.
Sometimes, you’ll touch me bitter to your lip,
When your mind falters, for once becoming dumb.
And you whisper lines to me in frantic,
Cover me cool sultry with your fever,
Sweat runs greasy through my breast clip, panic
That I will slip from your grasp, word weaver.
Made out of metal I am what I am,
Just a small blue pen in the palm of your hand.
Copyright © Rain Dubilewski | Year Posted 2008
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