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Mar 2015
His lips traces her every line
Their breaths are all they hear
She raises a glass of wine
He sees a glass so clear

Creased sheets of the mattress
in the hot summer of May
A moment of their unrest
As the sun sets by the bay

Their breaths grew quicker
As they reached the dawn of the night
Their muscles clenched tighter
A release of spring- without a fight
I wrote this in a boring afternoon class.  My first attempt in sensuality.
A Watoot
Written by
A Watoot
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