SexPosted: October 31, 2019
Softly, petal, it does not die:
the urge. The memories of grainy
softness, brush. Soft curls new
dew clad on
are preceded by kiss.
Raise, raise, raise two hands,
two wings. The arm pits are
naked caverns, seek!
The body flesh: it’s water, it’s a stone.
A sweet love is
love and technique.