Non-Erotic PoetryCliffsideI walk the edge of the precipice
wet grass teasing me
with a long slide down
to the stream below.
My thoughts, as always,
are of you.
Of passion and experience:
you threaten me as much as the cliff.
The fall into you more perilous
than threat of life or limb.
How can I maintain
my tenuous grip
on this gentle sanity
with the promise of you pulling me
towards the edge of the extreme?
...with thanks to Impressive and Biplaymate420 for their valued input.
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