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The tendrils of words succumb to the craft of mind and hand prosing until both are numb the drive, the will, demands To touch her heart and soul her spirit, if he can allowing her to feel, his goal as much as she, can stand Pouring forth liberally some, not as he had planned emotions raw, at full capacity passions and fires, fanned He showers her in *********** lines, syllables, verbs, and nouns a soft and sensual discourse and in her mind, resounds It's not just the thought of *** while making love, to mind it goes beyond the word, the text with every sultry whispered rhyme
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Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 8:53 AM UTC
The Poet
The tendrils of words succumb to the craft of mind and hand prosing until both are numb the drive, the will, demands To touch her heart and soul her spirit, if he can allowing her to feel, his goal as much as she, can stand Pouring forth liberally some, not as he had planned emotions raw, at full capacity passions and fires, fanned He showers her in *********** lines, syllables, verbs, and nouns a soft and sensual discourse and in her mind, resounds It's not just the thought of *** while making love, to mind it goes beyond the word, the text with every sultry whispered rhyme
:D Wordy passions ignite when she reaches out too me it all flows without a fight it's poetry you see
TemporalFugue
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Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 8:53 AM UTC
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