Soft Gloves

Posted: December 12, 2014 in Poetry
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Oh to be the sweet pallor of delight,

while lips wisp upon arousal’s vixen,

that piece we all desire,

yet often find has passed us by.

~

so we take in a boarder,

or some slight of avenue,

we distract our lives from that which

allows our mind to rest in peace.

~

only to struggle to touch

the flavor of desire

essence, passion, that is love

we wish and relish and breathe.

~

Oh to know how soft the cheek

of passion’s vision allows my mind

to imagine you in your delicious state,

my hands like gloves caress your skin.

~

And there again, lost I become

in the beauty of woman, sweet amour.

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