moles
i want you brown and hard and a bit of hair a bit of nauseating emotions when you think about it technically. but i want you in my mouth, nibbled between my mouth that press piano keys down hard when they get expressive, my legs smothering smooth over moles, yours. I want you to stop there and show them to me one by one late at night both stoned and music candle burning light softness caressing me from one dream to another ex-lover. You had scars before you were born. I love that about you.

my ghost lover with brown moles, white skin, a soft stomach that forms a secret pillow, hot is out and exercise, too bad you lost your squishy ass delicious cup fuck me with that float me

my wide taut ohs from the side she looks like you and I think I have a serious problem with dark curls and bright eyes holding a slight pose. Watching, everybody is posing, again. I turn the timer off and make my trip a martha steward sitcom growing up in the shower for the first time and forgetting my childhood. It's gone, never linger. On schedule we are under pseudonyms like pearls around my neck and frozen pizza, first time finding a metaphor.

my twenty year old fucking self i never want to forget waking up with you. all of you inside me.