I want to <br />feel <br />something so exceedingly <br />pure <br />as the <br />raw passion <br />of your hands. <br /> <br />I want to <br />make <br />your skilled fingers <br />fumble <br />over themselves <br />while languishing <br />in quiet distraction. <br /> <br />I want to <br />illicit <br />such a perfect <br />response <br />from your <br />lips that <br />you're rendered speechless. <br /> <br />I want to <br />drive <br />down home a <br />hunger <br />which consumes <br />you that <br />can't be denied. <br /> <br />Meanwhile, <br />everyday I silently sipmycoffee brushmyhair watchtheworldgoby <br />and consequently <br />realize <br />the growth of a wallflower.<br /><br />she is made of cigarettes and magic<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/desire-54/
