Sensual. Poems - Poems about Sensual.

. if mine duke's one ...

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Your tongue is an atomic split, I am locked in a sharp inhale. Proficient those lips leave me pale. All my breath work, can you feel it? Exploring my mouth bit by bit with a simmer I'm left gasping. Blood drains my will is collapsing, knees fail as I fall for your charms. My moans repeat like four alarms coerced by...

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Make the plans How it will go No frills, no fuss Just straight boho The only thing I want to do Is kiss the bride We both know who Of course I know, It's standard song But see I want To kiss her long And taste her smile With both my lips While grazing skin With fingertips...

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Eyes meet and hands touch, as two lives join hearts entwine in the silence of timeless love....

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For you I am an open book Read me as you will Nothing hidden, take a look Until you get you fill Around the block, experienced In many different things I'll show them to you one by one I'll start by tuning strings...

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. fromg yourn 'hind thuh heat uv i swirl'n softly gently ...

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. if i were thuh sand sliding down your ...

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Warm yellow light. Chilly, for indoor. Soft, soothing, piano. Music— Door slides open. A man walks in, his eyes— Rain’s wailing outside. He talks to the nurse. His voice hoarse like sand— Flash, lightening. Raindrops darken the dusty walk— Thunder. He sinks into the bench beside me. Stinging smell of cigarette butts— Another thunder. Door slides close and muffles it. Nurse says my name. I walk into the doctor’s— A muffled thunder. I don’t...

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. hern come'd tuh me ogle'n my ...

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You arrived like dusk— not falling, but folding the sky inward, your body a benediction I knelt to translate. No prayer passed my lips, only the hush of devotion, tongue pressed to the scripture written in your trembling. And when you opened— not like a door, but like dusk releases the bloom too shy for daylight— I drank not of desire but of trust, poured full. Your thighs curved...

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You stood like dusk before me, quiet and burning at the edges. I knelt, not to worship — but to listen to the storm beneath your stillness. And later, when you opened like evening — petal by pulse, I came not to take but to taste what you trust. My lips learned your language one slow syllable at a time, your breath catching like candlelight in a room...

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Your back, a velvet crescent, draws my chest like gravity. I map the slope of you slowly, each breath a question my hands almost ask. Flesh hums between folds of cotton, heat slipping into heat — a kind of friction language forgets, where fingertips write what mouths resist. You arch, slightly — a sigh or a signal, and my pulse answers before I do. This hush...

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"The Invitation" I saw you — like lightning notices the earth before it strikes. My breath forgot its rhythm, my eyes rehearsed what touch might feel like if permission ever passed between us. I want you — not just the body wrapped in moonlight, but the pulse beneath it, the places you’ve never let language reach. The ache you hide in your slowest smile. Can I take you to my love...

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Your back, a shoreline my breath returns to, warm as tidewater held past midnight. I trace the hush between your shoulder blades — a silence taught to speak in skin. The room forgets its corners. Only the curve of us remains: two commas curling into a sentence neither of us dares to end. My knee behind yours, a lock finding its key. Even the sheets...

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A thousand fair suitors all stab at your heart, those poets of movement and jockeys of art. The high-volume vendors who hustle romance, splashing their canvas with color and dance. The blasters of trumpets, gold banners unfurled, they offer lush gardens in glistening worlds; yes, bearers of torches and carvers of stone who whisper their...

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