My Love

Your skin glows like the banana, blossoms sexy as the ginger in the purest hope of spring.

My heart follows your trumpet voice and leaps like a rat at the whisper of your name.

The evening floats in on a great parrot wing.

I am comforted by your sports bra that I carry into the twilight of scissorbeams and hold next to my pinkie finger.

I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of jell – o.

As my mucus in the thyroid gland falls from my male thong, it reminds me of your dining table.

In the quiet, I listen for the last wof wof of the day. My heated toe nail leaps to my langerie.

I wait in the moonlight for your secret waste product so that we may sway as one, toe nail to toe nail, in search of the magnificient orange purplish and mystical broom of love.

Make one yurself:


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