• sage_theraingirl 36w


    She has an hourglass figure carved by an artist
    And lives her days between the knees of musicians
    As they run their fingers down her neck
    And stroke her back
    To evoke moans from the depths of her stomach
    Resonating in the minds of all who hear
    Hands pluck at her heartstrings
    Vibrating airs composed of the soul
    Or light melodies made of laughter
    She is the epitome of song
    And her voice stretches over the barriers of language
    Rivaling even the composer's own mind