Wink, wink–

Bite through
my ripe, pink flesh
into the redder core of me,

crisp-tart —

bountiful, my love,
bountiful, your hunger.

Unified in desire,

thrilled in joining,
if you get my meaning.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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