beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

Mafternoon

Days spent

Somewhere between

Chasing and waiting

For the hot, tense

Mafternoon of

You

In that time has no dominion

When you and I collide

Surrender to my hands

I’ve waited long enough

For you

Passion has made me

Inventive and profane

And although I am

Dusty and worn

With trails of scar tissue

Splitting my fur

Inside and out

You, bare your throat.

Feed my fingers

And your pulse is tiny

Beautiful music

Against my callused

Fingers

 

 

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