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  Aug 2018 moon
Cné

Souls embroidered with sweet sighs of passion
Musing of nights in lace & white satin
On a vista of flesh, flushed with desire
Riding the flames on a passage of fire

The beating of drums, commanding the night
To the rhythm of hearts, passion ignites
Wrapped in immortal flames of the sun
Burning together, two become one

Flesh upon flesh, a spirited dance
Welded by whispers of love, of romance
Temperatures rise in a fever of lust
Stoking the flames, ****** after ******

Riding the swell, in a race to the shore
Try to repress, but needing it more
Virtue be ****** in the rage of desire
Flames rise in hunger, higher n' higher

Charging the crest, temperance slips
Drawing the reins in a white knuckle grip
Crashing of waves unleashes the flood
Quaking the heart, and searing the blood

Spewing of flames in the crash of the tide
In a warm sheen of sweat, fervor subsides
Energy spent in the throes of release
Collapsing together, the story complete

  Jun 2018 moon
Natasha
we pick flowers because we like them displayed how we please
not how they truly grow.
what gives us a right to stop their life?
to watch them slowly droop to a wilting death
for our own personal pleasure.

so, let's blossom and sprout our small vines
and maybe we'll intertwine along the way.
we'll sustain as long as we can in this vase
as our petals slowly fall away.

and our water in dry, and our stems shrivelled up.
I'd rather die with you, two withered blossoms
than be the one who decides
which stems to cut.

— The End —