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B
Poems
Dec 2018
Tactile
Hands,
sleeves pulled over.
head lowered.
And
touch me slower,
your soul, I beg closer.
Barren land,
I am
a temperament of dry sands.
Hands,
break me
and build me into something of sensuality.
Written by
B
21/F/TX
(21/F/TX)
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