beauty, love, lust, men, poetry, sex

What Becomes

I find

Make

Sculpt

Time

Into raw materials

Alchemical focus

As the slow burn of

Desire held at bay

Becomes art

But still,

A man who would be comfortable

With taking you hard

Wherever I found you

But duty and appropriate

Behaviour stay my rough, strong

Hands and their invitation

To your sweet, secret places

So for now

It becomes

Art

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