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your desire splashes
from my veins
suckle the flavor
caligraphed on paper
As reason's thrown from cautionís perch
I motion my hand upon your breast-
fingers and thumb caressing its volume.
A pear in my palm.
My torso, hardened by gymnasium tools
cements to the small of your back-
a moistened merger.
When our breathing shallows,
I feel your femininity soften
to the rising and rhythm of my flesh.
When I glide my fingers to your lips
I am cheered to be so welcomed.
**Copyright 2008 Ian Bravestone, all rights reserved
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