Erotic PoetryCanvasYour body is my canvas
and my fingers
are the bristles of the brush
the places I’ve touched you
changing color
in gentle strokes and swirls
I long to step back
and hold you in the light
examining every detail
searching
for the tiniest spot
my paintings may have missed
and failing to find
a place without hue
to lay you down
lick you clean with turpentine tongue
and begin anew.
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TOUCH YOU...FEEL YOU
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