Personal Message

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You are not a word person; but you don’t need words when you hold me down, breathe promises rapidly into my ears, slide your lips across me like a typewriter gracing a page. You make me your shrine, releasing a gusto of prayer from your lips, words are of your tongue, hands trembling to reach my face and the O of my mouth, and later, when I’m too breathless for words, you lie on my back and invisible poems into my spine.

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will a pretty face make it better.

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