ghost stories

There is a ghost in my gullet
Its up on the rise.
Floating above us
Softly its breathing
Cold breeze it exhales

the most beautiful

Silky black hair’s cool soft touch

Eyes like looking into a wise old forest

An animated little nose, flares with expression

Tender pink lip’s perfectly formed with a sweeping top

A gentle subtle chin fondly frames In the rest

Neck that made to poise a wise head

Collar bones connection to be kissed

Shoulders both strong and slim

Arms armed with artistry hold me so tight

Breasts of a goddess, worshipped by my mouth

Back arched like marble aqueducts, smooth to the touch

A stomach slightly curved, midpoint of perfection

Hips that can anchor the worlds weight yet so lovely

Your gentle opening, it’s like a doorway home

The bubbles of your buttocks beckon me

Legs draw my eye, strong and beautiful

Down to small ankles, bring legs to a point

Finished by fine feet, oh the travels they have seen

wicked little spell

wicked little spell of heart and sleeve
tasting, sleeping the wanting lip ache
the image, the thought wished to believe
malignant hearts tumor a doctor's to take

sleepless night never so filled with joy
the night after the warm feels so cold
raiders of insides, a mingled word ploy
swelling, the masses, knots are all told

sunshine rays replaced with cloudy rain
brown eyes dark as underground waterways
a paper heart shape here simple and plain
the sprinkles of springtime focus on days

deep water currents stir up my emotion
remembrance of well framed collections
the rain to water traps collect my devotion
scribbled note to you, full of corrections