Read me, darling

Not the newspaper

Pore through

Every curve of mine

And enlighten your knowledge further

Early morning, it should be my flesh

Dipped in the aura

Of the sun rays

With the aroma of my nectar

Which should be your awakening moment

Peruse me with your fingers

Tweaking my breasts

Till it's studded

With gems of lust

Finger my petals tenderly

Till cascades fountain of desire

And the newspaper

Becomes our testament of fire.

©LR