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Mar 2019
My fingers smell of you
Inner thigh bruises, black and blue

It’ll be innocent, what I’ll do
Work you into a sweat, morning dew

Feeling like goddesses, us two
Sticking to one another, organic glue

Excitingly painful but only for a few
My erotica magnifica, you haven’t a clue
The Napkin Poet
Written by
The Napkin Poet  20/Philadelphia, PA
(20/Philadelphia, PA)   
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