She's in 7th grade
She barely knows his name
She wants to kiss him anyway
She's yearning for the fire, exuding desire
Or as much as she can retain
In the magic school bus
Not difficult to see
But pretending to be
In their own little world
He ducks down to hide his face
She hesitates to touch him like she doesn't know if he wants
The same
A little afraid, but willing to go for it anyway
Never trying to hide what she craves
Not even 13
Ready to tear him to bits
Little Miss. Promiscuous
YOU ARE READING
Poems of Mine
PoetryJust some poems and lines that I've thought of or will think up. -when I start writing, I can go on for hours because my mind is on overdrive and nothing else matters
