Taste of a Woman


She is the taste that leaves me withered

and sore

but still

My lips tremble in anticipation of her

I crave endlessly

her porcelain shoulders

slim and flushed

against satin sheets and velvet pillows

devour me

til dawn 

til death

let me


all that you are

“Hunger” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork by Pledant:


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