my love I cannot help my individually
their for me
sometimes i drink of you by the center
where you are wet and moist
heat i feel are the days and I feel your day by
your breeches
it's center running as it does
while you extend out puffy like what made you
lost in thought
and it opened you up thus musky and rich a person
like soft wet ground
how it clung moistly around
my cedar tree as well
and each day your face when it comes
as it does on him makes you recall me
what is left still to come
as it leaves you all inside
and those noises i some times make
hearing your wet noises as well;
like popping they make and sucking, piping more
from halfway the afterwords draw aside
to you above the pinkness
knowing it does make you good
and then you guide the finger above the reason
and the so hot sun it makes you cry more
and I cannot help the tears
during your quake as they collect during kisses
they make in the center your breeches
as they make it very wet
and all that I can make is to embrace
the lips far although more you made and puffy
they are very well
and will sleep knowing I will kiss you there
they lay still and quieten down
and you resting as you do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem