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Click hereLong rolls of flesh fold in,
And form thin cleft. The inner ripples
Beckon of my fingers and exploratory tongue
Indulgence, even luxury—some slight thing like joy,
Although I lick at lips too low to smile.
Survivor Poetry Contest
Trigger 1, Poet's Choice (Free Verse)
enough said. Maybe if you have to do some sort of acrostic again you'll go longer? Of course it's easy saying that not having to write it.