You are a piece of wood <br />With a bristle brush attached to the end <br />You make my blood flow fast <br />The black ink sitting on the desk <br />I am your paper <br /> <br />Seeing the brush and ink gives me goose bumps <br />The brush now in his hand moving towards the ink <br />I now feel the coolness of the ink on my skin <br />My eyes close slowly like we just started making love <br />He tells his story on my body <br />I am his paper <br /> <br />I stand there naked while he stares <br />However it is me getting off <br /> <br />This is gratification <br />Now I rest like I just had an orgasm <br /> <br />I blame my father <br />He cursed me by introducing me to this life <br />For he was the first to tell his story on my body <br />I was his paper <br /> <br />While cursing me he blessed me <br />This curs brings me such satisfaction<br /><br />Liz Berrios<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sensation/
