Revelations
by Adam Sifre
She drips,
slick with heated words and
wet innuendo.
She breathes in roses, salt and motel thoughts,
exhales, her junkies crowd around for a taste.
All piss and swoon, and edgy curves;
her mouth, all promises wrapped in words
that softly break
and saturate.
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Author's Note
A poem.
Other stories by Adam Sifre
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Were you in my house last night? (Except for the junkies part.).
This just oozes rare. Yep. *
Rage not rare.
I am rageless.
Dark and sexy. Love. <3
mmm. darker. have you tried any other words there?
This is like a distillation of some of your prose pieces. Well done. I love that roses and salt line. Maybe something more solid than "darker"? Who knows. I am spent of good ideas this morning :)
Yes, what Carol said. "Something more solid" is a good way of saying it.
On the nosey. I have known several women like that. *
Okay. I trade in darker for something more soiled.
haha. Cheap motels. Yep.
The endocrine system, run amok.
I think we all are secretly in love with the idea of drowning in lust and abandoning everything for a few moments of something beyond words. Which is why I'm obsessed with defining that something with words.
"I think we all are secretly in love with the idea of drowning in lust and abandoning everything for a few moments of something beyond words. Which is why I'm obsessed with defining that something with words."
<3
*
Thank ya.