A poem about Valentine’s Day and my index finger…
My index finger
She said nothing
Not one thing
When I asked her to be my Valentine
But hey,
it's okay
It's just fine
Her silence doesn't make me bitter
considering that I addressed my index finger....
Yep, why?! Holy shit!
I should leave…
It’s not the same …
The look. It’s all about being looked at or being watched as you undergo intense pleasure.
She makes me crazy…
When you kiss my neck, it will be the start…
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