love leaves a trail
the way ants do
drawing us to it
an irresistible urge
to which we must comply
as if chained to it's outcome
more than just desire or lust
though that applies, too
this need for the cheese
at the end of the maze
drawing us ever
onward
and why when we lose our way
spoil the trail
we are so lost
lusting after it more
than just to touch of flesh
or taste or scent
more than mere
attraction
we cannot live
without it
without the pursuit
of it
it is what we live
for
not just for the kiss
remembered
or the feel of breast
we steal
or plunge into the
soft embrace
it is the other that
keeps me aching
day and night
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