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He played in her lushness all night long
She had a moist garden of much pleasure
Within it he placed his pearl's treasure
Each ****** of his ardor twas truly strong
Her ******* were so scrumptious of tang
She did so delight his sampling of her
Sensuality set both of them astir
Their meeting had a hothouse guitar twang
Her inner petals held him with a thrall
Their sweat beads did flow on the bed sheets
The nocturnal hours did so captivate
Primal urges upon them made a call
In the starlight they performed their feats
Which did of the two so well satiate
If my life is just
The dream of some god
I hope he remembers
            me
When he wakes up
I can shout it because I’m pitiful,
But I’ll whisper it because I'm weak.
It’s the only thing light enough to say.
And I’m sorry saying sorry
Won’t change a **** thing!

Death doesn’t care how much we cry.
Even if we swear to change,
To cork the *****,
Or
Come home on time,
Death will carry on as usual.
Without skipping a beating heart
Too late is an awful time to arrive.
This was a handwritten letter that wasn’t patient enough to wait in the mail. I am a supporter of writing letters.

Our world is drifting from the simplicity of pen and paper. We love to complicate things in life.

I hope this letter can be a simple reminder that there is happiness and hope, even in darkness that reminds you of ink.

The first time I saw you my mind raced to memories of summer days at the beach; campfires; the sound of the ocean.

I thought, “She has no idea how beautiful she is. It doesn't cross her mind that girls envy her and men desire her. She is too concerned with the sound of laughter, and how it makes the darkness step back.”

I make a lot of assumptions, mostly unjustified, about people I cross paths with. But I am sure you are justified in feeling like royalty. You look like happiness.

A fort in the living room that looks like a castle, and cookie dough that tastes like heaven. If the opportunity crosses my path, I would give anything to meet you.

If you walked in front of me, I would think you were a shooting star and make a wish.

Don’t change. Shine unapologetically. You illuminate the humans around you.

Admittedly, the desire to write this letter is still unknown. The desire is there and so here are the words.
across the Kansas plains
in nineteen thirty five
a soot black dust storm
did relentlessly drive

it consumed everything
in it's blinding path
houses and sheds were
covered in a dark bath

drought and the failure
of good rains to fall
had caused this most
horrifying gloomy wall

the folks of the plains
thought the end was nigh
so they loaded up their kit
and said goodbye

over the plains country
the dust held a gritty splay
and its dark ***** plume
lasted for some days

states further south
of Kansas were affected too
as it swept into their borders
with it's black slew
A picture of the Kansas Dust Storm, in 1935 prompted this write.
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