A Ring When It Stretches Poem by James McLain

Dear my dear,
Between your breasts it grows until.
Your face it burns of warm liquid gold.
Red becomes pink salty oysters.
Only those afraid of issues never will.
The others are living, except you.
Perhaps until you are.
Touched there and there.
Until the fire becomes to much to bare.
Creamy white cream
yellow depends on the age.
Tongues inside they don't know
even when over their head.
If they know it was not from you.
But whom?
Remember sliding between your breasts
until pink pearls.
Black are worth more.
White from the string of fresh water.
The ring when it stretches does what.
And it does it feel and for how long.
Let the truth be known tell the truth.
The stretching would go on and on and on.
Until you fell asleep and right up until.
Panties they dry on the screen while the moon.