By h.
Date: 21 April 2001
In Dreams
It is the corner
Of her mouth,
That tiny bit,
That needs the
Caress of my lips.
Gently moving
To the center
To the essence of
Love.
Dry first,
Slowly as they feel,
The rain of the tongue,
They slip through,
Waters of red, hot,
Burning flesh.
Eyes closed,
Fingers move,
As soul and heart,
Are one part,
In a game of fire,
That starts in flames,
And ends
In dreams.
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