SmilingCosmos

Why would I want a woman baked like a pie - warm apple betty and eyes berry blue with too much joy? I don't want that white picket life or tears on my pillow begging me to be gentle when the moon is pressing between our thighs. Spare me the meek smiles, the dress softly unfolding you over my bed and any kind of breeze disturbing my thoughts. Much better to give me your rockets and sore limbs aching with too much rust, those roughhewn breasts and cheeks of brazen flush, that shiver, and invitation to disturb your flesh in ways that make us grab the air, that crack in breathing underneath my ribs, and all your glory s