Communion

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There's just something about calloused hands on skin
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Calluses     on     your     hands
like     flint     against     my     skin,
stoking     the     fire.

The     swell     and     crest     and     fall     of     your     muscles,
parts     of     you     sweetly     yielding     and     others
rigid.
Your     breath     on     my     neck,
and     your     scent     in     my     nose
          intoxicating.

I     want     to     taste     you,
     Breathe     you     in,
          Take     you     within     me.

Thigh     to     thigh,
belly     to     back,
your     hands     on     (in)     mine,
     Together.

Reaching,     reaching,     reaching,
for     a     moment–
sublime     connection–
breathing     as     one–
     gasping.

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