dream, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Wrong

The collar bone is a mellow beauty
held by infallible black straps of the unknown
that leads to softer dominions of flesh below.
Your smile above is etched in the eye,
But my hands forget those after
Seeing the soft sumptuous breasts within the black halter that acts as the veil,
the arched back tempts my lips just by imagining it
firmed by a comfortable lacy black hook.
It goes down in a perfect curve of desire to the hips and below,
I believe someone sculpted you,
Am I right?
From neck to the tempting breasts and to the waist, some did sculpted those curves in your body
Don’t tell me wrong now.
I can see it.

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2 thoughts on “Wrong

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