Devour
Oh. My. God.
Harmonious ecstasy and
oxytocin dance through
every cell you've come into
contact with.
Oh. My. God.
I never believed in God
until you had me
moaning prayers into
the sky,
begging for sweet,
sinful salvation. Your
tongue formulates its own
scriptures, and I am weak
in the knees.
Devour every drop of
my innocence, my pleasure.
Speak to me in tongues
until I am worshiping the sky.
Oh. My. God.
Copyright © Morgan Richards | Year Posted 2015
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