Her creamy strap was sin itself – Lois E. Linkins

my latest piece on FVR for desire month!



Her creamy strap was sin itself; a mark

Of woman. Bosoms hid beneath the mask

Of Cotton, next her silver cross, ‘tween bones

Like knees outspread. Who is more insulted?

She whose form betrays, or the boyish ways

Of him that make such tigress beggars of

His Kind. A pure Youth, for a separate life –

Dry lips and cold sheets, crisp as morning plastic.

You are pink. Those spots, my dear, are fine –

My God! How much more precious must you be than sheep?

Whose wool is flecked with dirt and still they graze;

Precious as bleached wool, but ne’er to drink

For Fear of Shredded Throat. You put it on

Your sweet skin and are damaged; you must not

Gasp when in your lace, it sheds.



Lois E. Linkens


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