These are my lips.
They are big full lips.
They need more open space to
wrap them selves firm around.
They don't fit onto smug potty, little
pretty faces pouty, these lips
are full wide and free thinking lips.
They don't like to be kept beholding, nor empty.
Wet these lips, have never been without,
they move up north when they want to
they head south when they need to.
What they do.
Unless it's to you, is none of your business.
Now as I smile, as you wish it were you.
Mine are rich pink firm hard to grasp lips
and these mighty lips,
have sunk more than my share, of ships.
Lips that are magic.
Lips never loose.
Should you, could but come around too know them.
They would pull the oil right out of the ground,
and on a man, they will never be found.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem