Yours_ Poem by Elizabeth Tyease Collins

Your lips trace my thick hips
And i shiver,
Wondering what i taste like.

Im bounded by your stare and im left
Weak by your hands that grip my wrists to
Keep me still
'do not struggle' you say
And i dont.

Your tongue so wet leaving a path trailing
From my neck to my chest,
Tease
To my stomach and back to my hips again,
Your tongue dipping and dodging,
And i can only sit here and watch
Tortured,
Not only because of the pleasure that drives me mad
Or the control you have over all of my limbs,
But the fact that i dont know whats on that mind
Of yours,
but how i can see in your eyes how beautiful i must taste.