Detroit, Michigan, USA
His lips as soft as feathers,
picked froma goose anew.
And when they press against my neck,
there's nothing I can do.
Anything to please me,
I love the way he tries.
He's starting to get next to me,
with the way he caresses my thys.
From the way he holds me when I'm mad,
To the way he wears his hair.
From the person that he is inside,
To the clothes of which he wears.
I wonder if he thinks of me,
The way I think of him.
Cause if he does,
Then he sees in me,
What I see in him.