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| It's your softness That threatens to Move me. A Monument of cold, Smooth marble. Words Of piety, of adoration And pure, luscious Want had slid past My rippling limbs before Unabashedly basking In the deepest Frustrations of rejected Lovers. And here You are, tracing Your fingers across My brows, my chin, My arms. You move Me like no hand Could. You. Your silence Piercing through the Fortress of my life. Prying. Truth unasked but given. Like heat slicing Through ice. Sizzling discreetly. |
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