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Aug 2012
His mouth slides
down my face and down my neck.
His ear stops at my chest
to check… If I’m still breathing
after his bites
and kisses marble
my porcelain skin.

His hands caress my ever stumbling
heart, only to make it beat faster.
The drum of my heart matches his in time
like an African drum,
playing our love like a tribal song.
Written by
Ayla Amanda
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