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Aug 2019
If I could give but one word of advice
It would be like corn silk to wet fingers mid-shuck
You doing your best to shake them off
Sticking all the same
You asked
A smile curves at sun wrinkled corners
Once again I fall all ripe peach juicy
Right into your calloused hands
We roll and chase, playing children in an orchard heavy soaked with late August light
Green moss intensity locks with my whiskey amber stare
Breathing you in, wanting you deeper than I can hold a secret
Golden hour glows around whispering fingertips
Sipping softly of your sweetness
Nipping at heated skin
Dizzy tilt my head back until the sky goes wild with stars
Lay me gentle into tall grass
Giving promises to love me hard
Written by
Wanderer  Between Midnight and 3am
(Between Midnight and 3am)   
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