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and

Posted to Poetry




if every day
every night
i could find
myself
making love
to him
giving him
all i've got
running fingers
through his
brown hair
that must be
silky, for it
looks so
looking into
his hazel eyes
trying to
see his soul
kissing the lips
so wet with
passion's
pleasure
tasting his
flavor
as i rest
on his flesh
leaving no
stone unturned
not one inch
of him
untouched
giving my all
making him forget
everything
except for the
moment of love
at hand
seperated
by miles and
miles of reasons
i continue my
wet dream
of the time coming
when i can,
every day and
every night.