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Jun 14
You bend
and almost break.
My pretty dead doll
skin pale as bone
spreads her legs
like a gate to bliss
now wide open.

Worship your white stone temple
words whispered from my thirst.

My hand over your mouth.

With tongue and fingers
I write my worship.
RMatheson
Written by
RMatheson  Beating tired bones
(Beating tired bones)   
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