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Pretty You
I cant take it, pretty.
Come give me your hand,
to slow dance on the sand, in the wind,
with salt in your hair, growing shells in my grace.
I am breathing,
soft air of honey and berries,
peaches and cherries,
covering my lips & my tongue with scented savories, licking off of your lips and smelling you between your teeth.
In the warm nights of Italy, we kissed.
And in the ocean gates of Greece, we laid.
My cheek on your shoulder, and my hand on your caller, the sound of you breathing rhyming with the heartbeat of my being, slowly, creating the notes of our harmonies, for pretty us to dance to.
© Blue walls
Come give me your hand,
to slow dance on the sand, in the wind,
with salt in your hair, growing shells in my grace.
I am breathing,
soft air of honey and berries,
peaches and cherries,
covering my lips & my tongue with scented savories, licking off of your lips and smelling you between your teeth.
In the warm nights of Italy, we kissed.
And in the ocean gates of Greece, we laid.
My cheek on your shoulder, and my hand on your caller, the sound of you breathing rhyming with the heartbeat of my being, slowly, creating the notes of our harmonies, for pretty us to dance to.
© Blue walls
