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Do you feel nostalgia every time you walk into the room, as the pillow talks of our make believe? Tender kisses, biting desires and creases of time stuck in the sheets. The echo drops of dripping walls, the yearning calls of passionate eyes—burning embers of your red skin. Blushing lips; a crushing weight of the burdens I try to shake. One screams a name, or in turn whispers it's calm in the first hug of embrace. The shape of bodies, outlined reminiscences on a bed. Oh-the sense of appeal, peeling away an oozing flux of one's *** appeal. Branching out into words--your'e barking up the wrong tree. No harsher than the bark, but a bite to force you to leave. Duped by the words lost in kisses; I meant to say lead. To places of touch; a rush of the brushing eyes...you've swept me by your night gown's sight. My love for you, inside the like of it's silk fabric. Covering your face under the blankets, but the glow of your skin—you could never mask it. Strength lost in the weakness of love. Making two for the best of one, as when the two flesh become one.                                                    _Now that's making love._
0
Jul 10, 2022
Jul 10, 2022 at 3:42 PM UTC
Love making
Do you feel nostalgia every time you walk into the room, as the pillow talks of our make believe? Tender kisses, biting desires and creases of time stuck in the sheets. The echo drops of dripping walls, the yearning calls of passionate eyes—burning embers of your red skin. Blushing lips; a crushing weight of the burdens I try to shake. One screams a name, or in turn whispers it's calm in the first hug of embrace. The shape of bodies, outlined reminiscences on a bed. Oh-the sense of appeal, peeling away an oozing flux of one's *** appeal. Branching out into words--your'e barking up the wrong tree. No harsher than the bark, but a bite to force you to leave. Duped by the words lost in kisses; I meant to say lead. To places of touch; a rush of the brushing eyes...you've swept me by your night gown's sight. My love for you, inside the like of it's silk fabric. Covering your face under the blankets, but the glow of your skin—you could never mask it. Strength lost in the weakness of love. Making two for the best of one, as when the two flesh become one.                                                    _Now that's making love._
OddOdysseyPoet
Written by
27/M/Zimbabwe
Jul 10, 2022
Jul 10, 2022 at 3:42 PM UTC
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