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Description
The red-hot fingers plead, gripping my ankles as I skip my way to her house. There were so many burning hands trying to trip me in anger or hold me back entirely from making it to the little spot I like to toss pebbles.

She opened her window again with frigid fingers I’d been dreaming about for weeks. I could smell the chill as it dripped down the side of her neon green house. Her voice, like a dog whistle only I could hear, forced through sleep was still against my intentions.

Why wouldn’t she inhale the cheap perfume from my rose tipped tongue and fall to the sea of blistering fingers as I set myself free inside of her? Did she know that my freedom rotted the tip of my tongue and left behind only a thorny stem? Did she know that I’d rasp her skin to the bone while I listened to her insignificant tales of daily curiosities? Which stifling member of the hot sea warned her of my prowess and poison tipped arrow?

She closed her window and my rose grew another row of petals. Soon I’ll choke on my own flowery words and the flesh in my mouth will open pricked to bleeding by my secreted thorns. So, I’ll fall back and let the once icy hands and fingers find what pleasure they knew and so stave off the needs of a body like mine for one more night. Tomorrow her hands might warm to the veiled sweetness of my velvet stroked lexis and she’ll finally see her love rising in my mirror eyes, of course it’ll be sinking.

Description
The red-hot fingers plead, gripping my ankles as I skip my way to her house. There were so many burning hands trying to trip me in anger or hold me back entirely from making it to the little spot I like to toss pebbles.

She opened her window again with frigid fingers I’d been dreaming about for weeks. I could smell the chill as it dripped down the side of her neon green house. Her voice, like a dog whistle only I could hear, forced through sleep was still against my intentions.

Why wouldn’t she inhale the cheap perfume from my rose tipped tongue and fall to the sea of blistering fingers as I set myself free inside of her? Did she know that my freedom rotted the tip of my tongue and left behind only a thorny stem? Did she know that I’d rasp her skin to the bone while I listened to her insignificant tales of daily curiosities? Which stifling member of the hot sea warned her of my prowess and poison tipped arrow?

She closed her window and my rose grew another row of petals. Soon I’ll choke on my own flowery words and the flesh in my mouth will open pricked to bleeding by my secreted thorns. So, I’ll fall back and let the once icy hands and fingers find what pleasure they knew and so stave off the needs of a body like mine for one more night. Tomorrow her hands might warm to the veiled sweetness of my velvet stroked lexis and she’ll finally see her love rising in my mirror eyes, of course it’ll be sinking.