he builds bridges
over my abdomen
fingers every direction
turns on a flood
flowing for miles
hands become the mob
and who knows why
or how
you are
able
to do this to me
i imagine some kind of
locupletative or
isangelous reward
despite your reason
my body is yours
a resonant mix
of wildness
and control
stunning beaut
and unseen force
nothing of hesitation
pleasure prolonging
it has come to this
it has come
come 















Comments
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...be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger...
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Creator of *DailyLitDeviations
Poetic Visions of an Uncut Mind: [link]
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