Erotic PoetryMountainsthere we were little rusty buckets of dirt
running down our lives to thrill
the evening catches eyeshadows
we wont to want no butterflies in stomach aching
to release the colored moss blankets
you stared away awake with delicate taste
too cool and warmth of white effervescence lapsed into hills
and the valleys between your thoughts as I smile
the time alone above the mountain laughs
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