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| It wasn�t that you charmed the birds to sing
and tell of where to find me, silent by the river, thoughts like petals drifting on its liquid skin while clouds flowered soft new dreams of you. (ok, so it was �) It wasn�t that I ached for you to braid my hair, or cool my skin with water cupped from river, as sun and wind spilled soft upon my senses. Nor was it that you held me firm and sure of the way your touch laid claim to flesh so long alone that passion had become a quiet memory. (ok, so it was �) It wasn�t how you leaned into my racing pulse, breath so close to throat that blood rose hot to greet your every word and then crave more. So it was that you heard my dreams inside your own when you kissed me silent by the river. |
| *image: lee bogle |