I take you wrinkled-soft
into my mouth and
like the ocean,

a gentle pull
the tide beneath the moon;
an old rhythm.

Just lightly
touching, gently
my tongue

a warm, wet trough,
and from your skin the
taste of ocean salt.

You stir, stretch and
I feel the blood flow,
the warmth spread.

You lengthen and harden,
a blunt desire
toward the back of my throat.

Your hands reach down
blind – instinctual –
in the still-blue light of morning
and touch my hair.

You sigh and murmur to the air,
eyes closed,
navigating by constellations
that bear my name.

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bycorazon© 0 comments/ 2673 views/ 0 favorites

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