I bite in,
raw, with fervour,
it dribbles off my lips and through my fingers.
I am unquenchable, insatiable,
my hunger, thirst, ripe as a summer’s peach,
but it’s a summer’s love that begs to me,
sticky on my skin,
nestled in my neck.
I want a love pure as a newborn
and sinful as the dead.
My teeth on yours,
unable to quell desire.
With your peach heart
in my peach hands,
I take a bite.
Tamed I may be, by a summer’s love.
One thought on “Peach Hands”
This is summer, if you could make any mark this is it! Nicely said