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My love, it is coming;lilies veil their wine cheeksas we did, pretending shylythe sweetness of fruitbreathed headiness againstour citrusy mouths

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My love, it is coming;
lilies veil their wine cheeks
as we did, pretending shyly
the sweetness of fruit
breathed headiness against
our citrusy mouths.
It has always been coming.


I darken before you,
grapefruit drops dampening
the lace gracing my body.
You stare,
your fingers fondling slyly
my garters.
It is coming.


Does it please you
to see me like this?
Standing before you,
waiting in ardent anguish
for you to lap me up.
Tell me again, who are we?
For what do we abandon the light?


Our knees touch;
I, a lily abloom, between
your thighs.
For beauty, you whisper.
For beauty quivering.
What we long for is coming.
It has always been coming, my love.


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