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Need

If I could couple with another
I wouldn’t need to be my own lover,
I writhe and burn as longing and lust
consume me, overwhelmed by the
saltiest nostalgia for hands that stroked
and arms that promised security.
 
I groan. My loss clings to me closely
as the shirt that poisoned Herakles,
I groan as I reach a lonely consummation.
Written by AlecBell
Published
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