Can I draw the liquid lines of you with my thumbing stroke?
Bleed the sap that I know lingers in the funnel of your heart?
Oh there are ways and means to make your fountain flow
I know most but not all
I will find the waterfall
I strum and hum the tunes that make oblique, the straight lines of your beautiful legs
You beg for more lick and that’s the trick.
Just a breath away.
I’ll stay just a breath away until even a whisper, will send you to simmer
The releasing breaths of a chord too highly strung
Is magic, melody to ears and head that need a patting. A petting.
Wet. Wet. Wetting.