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Aug 2013
I'm sick and the cure is somewhere by your thighs 
Or what lies in your eyes 
When I get stricken by your pupils
My eyes don't lie 
I'm gazing in a area where I know it's amazing 
The imprint
Makes my jaws clinch 
That tingling feeling penetrates my mouth 
There's a puddle underneath my tongue 
Hold up let me take care of that 
(Gulp) 
Yeah the imprint 
And the tight denim that fit it 
Shorts that's well lifted
Thighs are real gifted
Glazed and smooth 
(Oops a drool) 
Back to the thighs 
The tender side
Right in the middle
Right before the gristle 
Can you see the imprint of my missile? 
Not all the way stiffened , but the pre still sort of drizzle 
I try my best to hide it 
As I think of how you can ride it 
Ride it
Ride it 
Ride it 
Rising 
Rising 
Rising 
OH I CAN'T NEVERMIND IT 
Let me think of sports 
Instead of ******* 
(Ok ima try it again)
Ok that space I don't know if it's declared as your waist 
But under your navel above your laced 
Spell my name with my tongue, scribble over it , erase 
Indent a few times
And skip to the next line 
Extra credit a perfect heading 
I can give it to you just right 
What? MLA or APA format? 
I can turn the page 
The page 
Your back page tacked upwards in the air 
Takes my breath away 
It's a work of art 
A mural so well put together and separated at the same time 
With a dark tunnel of sensation smack dab in the middle 
The best part of that collage is how you're looking back at me for confirmation 
And I just draw your attention to the opening of your tunnel 
Kind of crafty how you shake while I'm in place 
You have more definition than the 3rd 
Your silhouette makes me figure that you shape my life 
Your sketch draw the line between real and fake 
Your art is too curvaceous for any 'ol man hand's to trace 
Your art is just so fine and liberal 
Your touch is just so sensual and Midas 
Your feeling is more like warm apple cider breaking through my cold body
Your taste reminds me of cinnamon or fudge 
And when your milk drips I hate for it to miss my lips 
I miss those lips 
I wish that it was a button that I can click that don't stiffen my wrist to stimulate that ******* 
I don't need a GPS to locate my CVS 
Give it to me 
I'm in symphony 
Them old fashion home remedies
Damaré M
Written by
Damaré M  Richmond , Ca
(Richmond , Ca)   
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