Loaded Gun

Form: Ivorian Sonnet 55

Leading me her skin slippery and wet
With a subtle hint of that sweetest sweat
I’m caught in her trap my resistance low
She’s using me for sex and who’s to blame
My hunger for love dealt me that fatal blow
Abandoned senses as she works my lips
My tongue too eager for the sweeter taste
Moving my head to her gyrating hips
With my arms wrapping on to her waist
She is done; she leaves me with a bad name
She’s gone, dancing in her own after glow
My lips molten liquid where she was wet
My tongue flickers over the few last drips
From now on I will keep my body chaste

Poet’s note: My prompt was to write to whatever I was listening to, well that just happened to be Bon Jovi


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