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Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Rose Skin

Sex meets heart,
a yellow dew-kissed start.
Silken slips of rose skin,
moisten and tend
to my inner being.
Balance the roaring
waves of desire,
with an avaricious fire,
the need to be loved,
1 foot above.

Gasps of green and
torrential tickles,
blast me wide open,
with the strength to face you.
The vulnerability paradox.


Pleasure streaming,
down walls freely,
like dribbles of passion paint,
poured with angled abandon.
Whose wet legs finally meet,
only after days
of coursing languidly,
head over open knees,
dangling surrender.