she makes me vulgar
turns me primal…raw
transforms me into somethin feral
when her scent fills my lungs
lord knows I ain’t no saint
and she’s my fiercest addiction
my darkest desire
writhin on shadowed sheets
her body becomes an altar
in this ritual of need
where I worship with rough hands
and a heart that beats her name
she makes me vulgar
with those midnight eyes
dark as sin…carved from stars
drownin me in their depths
I want to consume her whole
devour her til nothin remains
unleash the hunger she ignites
without mercy
my hands paint possession
onto her tremblin flesh
markin territory with want
til she arches…untamed
she makes me vulgar
awakens the monster and poet
both thirstin for her essence
both ready to burn the world
her pleas become my prayer
her surrender becomes my salvation
as she cries out
in pleasure’s twisted tongue
I’ll mark her skin
with savage devotion
brand her with every breath
claim what has always been mine
fuck…she makes me vulgar
my name her final descent
her soul shatterin beneath me
feedin my darkest need
Damn she made you that way? Bravo
Nice poem
sure did. thanks
Powerfully penned, Ambjr. What a spill my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
thank you
From DUP it says… the title sounded familiar 😉
So happy you posted it here. It’s a fucking hot piece of ink.
“brand her with every breath
claim what has always been mine” > right up my alley…
yep. am pretty sure you liked it there too 😉 thanks