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Wednesday, 4 April 2018


Delicious delicious Sin.
How chemical, the chemistry.
I feel your fangs bite into me.
Those canines, sharp edges glinting in the dark.

I miss your eyes, their sinful gaze.
They tell me a myriad things, pleasure haze.
Reminding me of our weekend getaways,
We've sinned, confess on me now, o father.

Sin. The taste of it sacred in my throat.
I love the milky wave, the way it shoots down my body.
The silky feel when I rub it deep in my skin.
The blanket of joy I feel when it cracks.

Sin. The money I get from you.
Prada shoes, Chanel bags, all in different hues.
Clothes of a million names, different blues.
The comfort I get, the delious coos.

Sin. His voice.
The melody of it, husky, my invoice.
Log in to me, let them caress my inbox.
I need you. My always drug.

My drug. My obsession. My sin.

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