Uchiha or Red (short poem)

Dear Teme:

Lips with a kiss of crimson bliss, eyes that burn my essence of being,

skin of silk that slips through my fingers, hair as dark as the dead

of night.

Your body it's poetry, the way it moves in the dim moon light. My sun-kissed

arms, will hold you, but not after a fragile fight. Your voice is quit, but I

can hear it through your touch.

My heart is pounding, as your arms go around my waist. My body heats up, when

we come face to face. Your lips part suddenly, and I know I would love a

taste.