Is It Poetry
is it wicked of me if i
is it wicked of me if i;
buy a peach and it's too soft and ripe.
what if after words it does what you thought
it would do and then it well, just might.
and yes you know my fingers are more than,
any thing they do
and still you would have me, sigh.
what if i pick the next one up,
and squeeze the center and it does it too.
i keep running fingers all around it, in and out it
underneath it, like those around me do.
yet still peachy they remain as last they were
and watching yes they laugh so hard and knew.
well, i guess i can always wipe that kiss off your
face, but i'm thinking if i do, what if the rest i miss
and pass them by
and the best i left behind.
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