by Harry

Submitted by Mahin


roses and honeybees flourish when our breath mingles,
as his curls find my needy grip
his tough hands travel into my soft spots
merging his presence with mine,
an eternal high looks promising
next to the desire and greed he has of what is his,

surprising me with tenderness, still,
afraid i will scar his soft, candied lips
yet, his touch is that which is so ethereal
and his eyes are that of a pool of quick sand,
heaven to those who drown in it


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