beauty, love, poetry, sex, women

Forest Path

Love is a trail

Through the darkest

Forest

The hardest part is not

The first step

But the path itself

Thorned, thirsty branches

Pluck to wound

Thick darkness

Few stay the course

But here, in my cave,

I endure,

Not as martyr or masochist

But a beast of wildest heart

Broadest limb

Hibernation calls

But these bitter watches

Still bring your scent to me

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