From where I bite through the skin The prick of flesh And the rush of sweet bliss The aftermath of a lovefest, Of feeling the flesh first The smooth curve against The palm of my hand, The hard place Where the step detached, Rough against hand and tongue The wanting, the waiting The need to have what is Deep inside where my fingers Cannot reach, nor my tongue Until I break through And let it rush over me, My mouth unable to contain All it has to offer But I want it all, And drink deep until I drown in its sticky dripping Like a honey bear Consumed by what He aches for most
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