beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women


Our hands

Make love to one another

Pinching your nipples

A tailored pressure

Enough mean to bring a rush

Of blood to the flesh

Between your thighs

The analog of the sacred heart

There I lift, separate

Explore and dance

Grazing circles against

Sodden flesh

How many could I ease

Into you? 

What pleasure would such fullness


Do your eyes spark like falling stars

To imagine such entry?

Your fingers circling

Soft, uncut velvet

Draped over turgid column

The brush of warm fur 

Grasping at me

Holding on

Safety in my strength

How our hands know

One another 







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