A colossal appetite.
A small menu.
A maw on a leash.
A serpent growing inside you,
bile breaking your remains down—
an arcane union.
I feel you twitch.
I feel you drip.
It’s getting tighter.
I feel the grip.
I look into your windows.
Your self-control slips.
Isn’t it divine?
Your will giving in to mine?
All it takes is tenderness and time.
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Author:
Seraphel (
Offline) - Published: August 13th, 2026 16:48
- Category: Erotic
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: Fränz Müller
Offline)
Comments3
A poem of hunger and digestion and a metaphor as well. Well done
Much appreciated friend
You are most welcome
This one is pretty tasty!
It’s been the mood lately!
Nice metaphor, loved reading it
Thank you. I had fun with this one.
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