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Dec 2016
Dangling lazy their wet thumping legs,
my tongue bit that blanket pulled from me,

off with my clothing, your eyes hid nothing
happily, here after, in drinking;

Olives dream of the Sun
Once that held wumpa
To be a hole,
And in these last years I’ve
Held back biting at any one,  

I missed being Inside you;
or spelling you, and your howls.
Written by
Dark Fjord
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