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Click hereSoft comes a touch
of a ghost vision.
See his fingers,
feel the nails,
followed by grasps
much too tight
at my hips,
forced up rigid,
as his fingers dig.
He finds his vice
somewhere inside me,
and the flow of desire
becomes mine.
He turns my head
and tongues collide,
locked in pleasure as One.
We both begin
to crave finality
to the longing, desire, and hope.
And soft we fall
to the floor with waves
of delicate lust
all spilled out around us.
Ecstatic and sated feelings
are suddenly replaced
with a terrible emotion
that always follows the pleasure.
I'm curled up tight
in my own covers,
while alone in his, somewhere
he chants for me to go away.
And I am never sure
why
how
it's possible
I'm never really alone,
but never really united
with a vision of a man
to whom I gave
all of everything
at the moment
my soul was born.