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PK Wakefield Aug 2012
dear i came 1 hour north
you were waiting in blond
skin you had pale eyes
caramel and you tasted like

         sugar *** magic

the lithe dish of your face
caught my face drank my
lips in your soft and tiny
supple waist, from where
lust is sloping eagerly
shaven pink and paired
by 1 (hour north you wait
eyes hips waist hands caramel
                                                      )
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
come pretty quickly out of air incised
precisely with your hips skinny waist:
Saturday
                  say

                            LOVE,
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
being a girl, who for the first time 18
gave 22 (and bruised) a throat supple
patinaed for the first time in sweat
and breaking gave 22, for the first
time 18, inimitable painful redness(
didn't even notice till the end and
)black nails scraping the tender
mess of crimson giving pulled me
out and asked for the first time 18,
"again, pleasE?"
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
"oof," i said,"what are you?" got nice

****                                             gotnice

calves backsofknees and       got nice

eyes "i bet" said i said eyes

i bet you taste real good

(between winter) and spring

i bet wet

petals split by wet petals split

you taste good

like salt and rain

next to the ocean(betweenWinterandSpring)
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
i was driving the other day there was a short stop and a face was quickly past in an instant face
Was young blithe pastoral
imped with with the pleasant razor
of a grin face
was girl
With tiny darkly cropped few her
cheeks
had twin splotches of
fat rouge her
was lips
RED
glimmering
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
it was november it was raining just a little bit
of rain was powder fine glisten soaking
the frail pale length of the forest long dark
sleepily crisp in gnarled and in limbs
crooked elegent
the way was streaming(bent with treees)over
and a sprig of magic sharply
in my nape first creeping
through loam(worms)
my chest
worn of heart broken, i
through gnarled lengths of long sleeping trees
freshly said life
in the nicely dead forest
my heart(worms)creeping
through loam
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
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