| he flowed over herskin, warm red wine spilling from his lips
over arching curve and dip as she quivered, open for his breath and touch that dragged her from the citadel that she had built to keep him out and so it was that he was inside hersigh and soul, caressing every small surrender that soaked his hand, as she tore herself away from the rocks that chained her to the past. He was valley, she the river, flowing in between his tendersides that cupped her gently, offering her pain to the skies and rain for renewal in his windswept consciousness of essence choosing love anew. |
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| *image: lee bogle |