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Click hereA show of glowing skin
Butterscotch smooth
Salt sweet tongues
Pressed into letterbox oblivion
Laying on the dewy ground
Limbs bruised with velvet kisses
A shortness of breath
With the taste of musk and honey
Cherries are not the only fruit
But when ripe and ready
They blossom, bud and pop
And tear with such agonizing bliss
Pushed deeper into the earth
Until only the tsunami can be heard
Roaring, filling the land with its seed
A hot, violent troubled ocean
Flecked with life's blood
Foaming, falling, dancing
And the crescendo ends
For the first time…