While he ties the knots innocuously,
ensuring no mark shall any lace leave,
each breath of mine, I hold suspiciously
to coyly suppress my bosom's perceivable heave
Sliding my tresses to the front
while I visualize his awestruck face
only to feel his thumbs blunt
And the warmth that bellowed,
from his inner furnace
that heat met its compensation
with the perspiring beads cold
yet he did tie the knots with near precision
as he spared a margin of my waist's fold.
No comments:
Post a Comment