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I Remember Bren

tattooed, sweat drenched, confessional, this rose sopped ecstasy I maybe tested through a full glass yet, my word, your flavour so fresh as the closest and sweetest kept secret, tasted: tested: approved as complicit dew through years of spilt guilt, when ventured pleasure ordered, I, insect twixt the lingered crawl along villous cinnamon and apricot stole, long reflections through the viscid, over accepted intimacy, nectarous, and still unscolded by time, when I breathed the depth of your auburn sudorĀ 

passion. illicitmemorieslustwishful

◄ Goodnight America

Hey Poet! Suck This ►


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