Erotic PoetrysusurrusDon't be afraid
The raiments of your life, be they
tattered rags, brocade of gold
I would ease, with whisper, from across your shoulders
let part, to earth forgotten, light
my lips, prayer susurrate
upon the fountain naked of your breast
and to the telling of your heart
with all the magic in my breadth
bespeak – the secret name
of giving
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