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Tracing Silhouettes

Of what . . .
does this heart know?

the beats breathless
they break down
as you go

is it the heat,
the hot desert sun
or these dangerous thoughts

. . . of you

slipping out of that form fitting dress?

I long to unclothe you
and bite on your lips
inhale you, imbibe you
my hands
tracing on those hips
Written by JusTim_
Published
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