||hide your hide||

gimmi a girl like miles I swear,
one that knows graceful wear,

tightknit, revealing, neon and latex embellish,
but at the cost of waking desire, dog-drool delish.

plaid, embroidered, drooping flower,
from neck to knee fabric streams scour.

that's what I wanna see when I see a girl transitioning,
not the lgbT; but the period where they ask without asking.

sexuality personified Basmati may very well be,
but an iron fist is meant to rule what is mine indefinitely.

whether it's clenched, splayed out or used to discipline,
will be up to what is displayed and pheromone cinnamon.

||hide your hide||