your
cursing
blush
your
flailing
tongue
the bed the couch
the carpet
are all drenched
with you
and i am spent,
recuperating in this
not-so-flattering
position
as the word
love
slithers back into
this room we’ve
smeared with
lust
An open journal... WARNING: some poems contain nudity or sexual images. NSFW 18+
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