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Oct 2014
what you were the way something
drunk apart cool between rough and
shaven legs a small flint of tinder
caught burning at boy lips too apart
too kneading lustfully hunched at play
talking about this and that "color is
perfect how you balanced them in this
piece" watching your stroke finger fur
buzz the cusp of your lick i want to
taste bulging nuzzle of broken flesh.
PK Wakefield
Written by
PK Wakefield
343
   September
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