written by: Amanda Eifert
Load my shoulders so I hold,
The world I live, balanced on my shoulders.
And I place it in your hands, but it slips through as sand,
I’m just another vice.
A woman who feels the beads of sweat;
A memory from too long ago.
The heat rising, conscience gone;
Lips slipping down my back.
You’re such a vice,
Nipping at my curves,
Finding places, other lips never persevered.
You’re the only one who finds,
Love in me for vice.
You don’t find falseness in me,
You find the beauty.
Licking trails, the tears down my face,
Mouths meet and the fire’s only kindled;
My vice and my earthly salvation.
The purifying fire of grace;
The dark side of gorgeous.
Memory caught in your smooth pleasure-ridden hips,
Strength, sensuous softness;
And hardness finding home.
Pushing euphoria and licking salt tears;
The pleasure induced crying.
Your arms are my haven —
Your fingers stroking places and leaving trails of smoke.
Marking your place in the book, torn of its cover.
No judgement or fear;
You’re my vice and such glory,
Your eyes see through all trickery,
No smoke and mirrors hiding.
Just us all over each other,
Reflecting each other’s wants.
I didn’t understand you before now,
I don’t know exactly what drives you.
Such a sinful vice that lures me in,
Male siren, but we both steer clear mythology;
In real life we grasp and tug,
You push your tongue inside my lips.
Let’s tangle as I pull your hair,
Such vice, take me to the stars until, pleasure hides us.
Beyond the Northern Lights,
A green glow to hide the jealousy untold,
If you look at her at all —
Or when I remember him.
But new vices I have found in you,
I indulge in sin, to bruise me with your fingertips.
And bind all sweat and all tears in one.
Such sweet release, la petite morte –‘ little death.’
Vice in giving each other such delight;
Never leave, never go.
I need you like a summer storm,
To wash the old away,
Cleanse and wash my sins,
Your hands cupping, while you suck —
And I’ll kiss you wherever I can,
Your arms hold me tight.
Doing your worst, your vice filled mind,
Fingers dig and you thrust,
Your weight is welcome, rough;
Stuttered breath and together we’re gold,
Vice given and forgiven,
Vice the price to lay still entwined,
While we breathe life deep and bold,
Wrapped in the quiet, the silence –
Catching our breath, for more vice.
Latest posts by Amanda Eifert (see all)
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