A writer by profession
She writes many a story line
Reality not favoured
Imagination is required
The gaze of naked eyes
Caught feasting on the human form
Two seconds, too long, is quite enough
To start her off
Or perhaps eyes veiled
Shrouding blatant lust
The desire to strip,
To expose and bare
While she starts her
Story line with grand aspiration
Desire is a tragedian
And sadly bares too much
Desire is sweeter in the mind
The whispered words of affirmation
More seductive in the thinking
Than in the saying
That kiss so slow
And sensual
Lips so tentative, the tingling
Is just the burning
Left over, from last nights
Dinner of

Chilli paste

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By badgerslabyrinth