deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Gully
At the top
of this gully
of flesh
sits a rose bud
in a hood
at rest
waiting
for that smooth
caress
where the countdown
starts with a twitch
as the rose bud grows
for your kiss
and the rhythm
takes you
to a place
where there are
no words
to explain
of this gully
of flesh
sits a rose bud
in a hood
at rest
waiting
for that smooth
caress
where the countdown
starts with a twitch
as the rose bud grows
for your kiss
and the rhythm
takes you
to a place
where there are
no words
to explain
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