Witchingly familiar – a small glance towards
You; lick of lips, sway of hips, it’s so inviting,
But you keep me at a distance, and I am
Such a lover girl, so all I do is think of you
Starve myself until I get to eat you up, just
a bit from the neck down, as far a taste as
It’ll take to bring you to the edge, and over
If you wish
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