Hungry For More


Lashes flutter.

Mouth waters.

Cheeks warm.

Muscles tighten.

Body aches.

Grip increases.

Lips part.

Breathing hitches.

Hands roam.

Fingers tease.

Chest heaves.

Breasts swell.

Nipples harden.

Tongues delve.

Heartbeat skips.

Pulses race.

Back arches.

Palms heat.

Sweat pools.

Limbs tangle.

Nails drag.

Legs quake.

Toes curl.

Moans echo.

I can’t shake this fever.

Nor do I want to.

The symptoms of our love.

See what you cause.

I can’t get enough.

I can’t live without it.

It’s embedded itself.

Deep within my core.

All I could ever want.

And yet I still want more.

© Katrina Storey 11/22/13

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O When Does My Shit Come Together? #Poetry #LifeLessons #ASMSG

Penelope Jones

One of my writer friends, whom I adore like no other, gave me the title for this poem. She’s handy like that… she is the go to girl for ideas and book bios! She’s simply magnificent! PJ Perryman,  you are the sparkle in my knickers! 





O’ When Does My Shit Come Together?

by Penelope Jones



 O as a child we think when I get older…

I’ll be president, an astronaut, a doctor, or maybe a writer?


When we get older we’ll change the world,

cure cancer, and create new adventures.


Does that mean I’ve arrived and failed?


My life isn’t a bowl of cherries,

it isn’t a walk in the park,

nor can I say… I’m finished.


Shit!My dreams are not complete,

my adventures not fulfilled,

nor have I found world peace!


Come along…

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