a Back glanced look,
second chances
poets painters prosers
wordsmiths woodsmiths
craftsmen crafters crofters
I'd rather be on
the windswept moor
bluff crags, salted smells
and herbs
delicious combinations,
mouthwatering
Is that drool I see,
veined and
crusted flaked slowly
and crimson
The color of her lips as she
drew them again and
yet again
He was never sated.
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