 | I strive to be a painter,
Of love and feelings told.
My lips and hands are brushes,
My canvas is your soul.
Your body mesmerizes,
It speaks of love to be.
A masterpiece of colors,
I need no light to see.
With each stroke, comes a feeling,
A sense of what’s in store.
And when the painting’s over,
You’ll only want for more.
A never ending journey,
To where you’ve never been.
But once it’s been completed,
You’ll go there once again.
To see the pretty colors,
To feel their soft caress.
To know again the feeling,
As I undue your dress.
My lips trace little circles,
On a canvas that is you.
Your senses seek their feeling,
And you wonder what I’ll do.
For me, it’s never knowing,
Of where my brush will go.
Or how the strokes *ssemble,
All ranging head to toe.
My brush has many secrets,
Of things I cannot say.
I know it won’t be boring,
I won’t let it be that way.
Your heart fills with desire,
Your mind will fantasize.
As my tongue ignites a fire,
That you truly realize.
As your body tenses, waiting,
For that rush that is in store.
You wish it would continue,
And last forever more.
But then it slowly fades away,
A memory, this is true.
The smile that plays across your face,
Tells me you love me too.
Written by trulysexypoet
Submitted by trulysexypoet |  |
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