As the clock 
strikes 2
the forbidden hour 
takes control
the heat begins
to consume them
black skirt
red painted lips
lay before him
the taste of sin 
fill their hungry mouth
craving more
her nails 
mark his back
claiming him 
her lover
he satisfies 
her every desire
hour after hour 
he fills her
claiming her 
his mistress
the scent
of sex and pleasure
fill the room 
long after
the sun rises
as the last 
of the sweetness
has been tasted
the confessions 
of a writer still linger

2 thoughts on “Confessions

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