a park bench in an empty lot with a computer on a plant box of bricks, moving images of what i could only imagine doing with you.
dream number three is realising how lucky i should be, teasing you with myself, getting chills when your hands run up my ribs and onto my chest.
aquamarine lights in brown tiled showers with handprints on the mirrors, gripping the hands placed on my waist, eyes are closed in a blissful state.
one little moan and your hand would slip up, covering my mouth in attempt to not give us up, kissing me till my lips turned raw, fuck me on the shower floor.
YOU ARE READING
666XXX
Poetrya series of the 666 diaries, this is number 3. started in april 2016, ended jan 2017.
