Touch me no flowers
      no unfurlings      
no mere slivers of flesh
      Take Me to the grey morass      
sift those cobwebs
as  once she did
      bloody fingers taking,
choosing  the

tendrils of thought      
desires and predelictions
            what can remain :    
            thoughts exchanged      
            a finger lifted      
            a twitch of a brow      
            a gleen of sweat
on her upper lip          

slowly a lazy trail
across the form    
Runs, be the arbiter
      Raise the flailing hand      
      blazon those welts      
Now, I want to lick
that ooze
      Nectar to me      
oh so sweet that feeling
          and yet ;

Did I even touch her      
was it My mind
and eyes

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