Our Oral Tradition

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As close to you as I can be
My eyes closed so I can see
Lips secured to lips
My face held in vice like grip

I crave sweet syrup from your well
That springs from between your legs
I let it soak my hungry tongue
I seek the last drop to come

If I could drown in your sea
Of flowing juices
Never to surface from
Opened sluices

What nectar you do disperse
Seeping from your heavenly purse
My written skills are naught when comparing The oral traditions of our pairing

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