I haven't really flown
in so long...
It’s not you
it’s her hips...
The aching is the from residue
Of inebriation creeping through...
Its
time to...
First setting eyes on you
the desire is overwhelming...
Around our axis we rotate
Almost 1000 miles per hour...
Our hearts yearn for you
My soul is crying out...
Every stroke of the pen
paper is filled with affection...
Crouching like a lioness
listening to a weasle squeal...
I sink into your softness
You know my curves so well...
The pieces of the puzzle fit
but the picture tells a different story...
Every single time the pen
scratches its tip against the paper...