Your eyes are now wide open before me, to behold my fullness.
You call me your busty sweetie and knock on my door.
You call me your shy little pretty, your princess, your finesse,
your floating rhythm and rhyme, your kind of whore,
the nonsense that sells your sleep to the night.
Your eyes darkly want me from the out of doors.
Dillard's workers are everywhere, telling women like me, in broad daylight,
that "we don't have any dresses for girls like you", of course.
A moment of silence for those missing out on my forbidden paradise.
All the world pauses, you touch me, no shame,
no judging, you tell me I'm all yours, that it's easy to take me, no vice,
I'm a curvy girl, will you be a big boy and take me all the way?
YOU ARE READING
PERCHED PARCHED BUTTERFLY
PoetryYour voice is the paint I take to the sky, splattering it all over, so they can all know you're nigh.
