Is there anywhere on your body where my touch will not bruise you, dear? As my fingers take steps to cross you, they leave runs in the nylons of your skin. Raspberry syrup will pool beneath these bruises, and I shall ease my sallow lips across your kneaded candy flesh, and beneath my suction your skin will swell, thinning to a clear bubble, and finally bursting forth in a giggling stream. What of your body which lays in an empty pile? Shall I pick it up with the end of a stick?
This was all figurative, of course...
No comments:
Post a Comment