I never like the taste of liquor
Unless it was on you
Watching how carefully you pour the amber liquid
In a chilled glass entices thoughts
It is not the liquid in its spender sitting
In wait, for your mouth
It is after when it invades and corrupts
Twisting its area to meld into something more
You drink and swallow.
Moving closer, so I may have a turn
One deep kiss and I am intoxicated
(You should be bottled)
This is the second excerpt on the Soft Erotic Series on Starsrite.com
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