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Feb 2022
Hidden in the coarse grass of the savannah I hunger for your flesh.
The burnt ground is bare as your feet from agropastoral fires
I have perambulated the woodlands and grasslands in carnal desire.
Grimacing the smell of musk and petrichor is pungent.
Into the night I want to be by your side.
Silent amidst the busy thrum of the bush.
Lost in the drought I am famished of your love.
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