Spun On My Toes.

The dropping of robes,

the removal of clothes,

powered down phones,

whispers abound,

eyes flashing around,

echoing the urgency,

I’m spinning on my toes,

to satisfy your sympathy,

to indulge your every need,

by doing what I’m told,

by knowing what I know,

you have bound me,

to such keen insatiability,

an aching in my belly,

a pining in my heart,

a warping of the vinyl,

a soul-tapping spinal,

that leaves a salty sting,

up and on my feet,

standing tall and bold,

hot body,

for a heart so cold,

hot body,

for a spirit so old,

so naughty,

til the naughty goes,

so sorry,

for knowing what I know.




6 thoughts on “Spun On My Toes.

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