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Written by Anna
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Thursday, 22 November 2007 |
I crave your hipbones
beneath my hands,
your pulsing skin
between my teeth.
I’m aching for proximity.
Hungering for your
eyes to flutter closed
against my cheek.
I’ll whisper eloquence
between kisses,
sing ballads while
your head rests
against me.
I’m all contact
and kinesthetic,
your slender hands
coaxing the beast in me.
Primal transgression
escapes from me,
and you withdraw
from my touch.
You’re the riddle
I always think I’ve solved.
But I’m left empty handed,
no solution in sight.
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