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Mar 2018
His breath is the theme in our poetry,
my moans are the words that bleed onto the page.
His fingers are the gentle, precise cursive
that unlocks lust from it's paper cage.

Every space between the lines
were kisses from my neck to thighs.
His literature is for only me,
and I will be his poetry.
Written by
Cynthia  23/F/Colorado
(23/F/Colorado)   
222
     Corwin Schneider and ---
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