She fed me silence like it was sin-
served in glances, seasoned in lace.
Her wine glass lingered near lips
that knew how to make a man starve.
Every move she made was a metaphor.
Her fork danced across the plate,
but my eyes…
my hunger traced the slit in her velvet dress,
where black lace whispered more than skin ever could.
She crossed her legs like a locked door
and smiled like she held the key.
That look in her eye?
Not an invitation...
a dare.
I spoke of flavor,
she tasted my lies with a moan too quiet to be casual.
The candlelight flickered,
but the fire?
It burned beneath the tablecloth.
She never touched me.
Not with hands.
She let my imagination do the undressing.
By the time dessert came,
I wasn’t craving sweetness.
I was studying the way her lip caught wine,
how her breath paused between words,
how she sat on the edge of surrender,
and knew it.
Between bites and breaths,
she became the hunger I couldn’t name-
and I,
the appetite she wouldn’t feed.
Yet.
served in glances, seasoned in lace.
Her wine glass lingered near lips
that knew how to make a man starve.
Every move she made was a metaphor.
Her fork danced across the plate,
but my eyes…
my hunger traced the slit in her velvet dress,
where black lace whispered more than skin ever could.
She crossed her legs like a locked door
and smiled like she held the key.
That look in her eye?
Not an invitation...
a dare.
I spoke of flavor,
she tasted my lies with a moan too quiet to be casual.
The candlelight flickered,
but the fire?
It burned beneath the tablecloth.
She never touched me.
Not with hands.
She let my imagination do the undressing.
By the time dessert came,
I wasn’t craving sweetness.
I was studying the way her lip caught wine,
how her breath paused between words,
how she sat on the edge of surrender,
and knew it.
Between bites and breaths,
she became the hunger I couldn’t name-
and I,
the appetite she wouldn’t feed.
Yet.
️ written ✍
