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- Erotic Poetry
- Picnic
Poem Info
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Picnic
Sun beating down, your skin has a shine
Nothing between our bodies and ground
Sweat slithers over flesh, trickling line.
Breath makes no sound
Desire is sneaking
Your heart is my master
My nerves soon are freaking
Sensation moves faster
I have little hope
Church bell rings four
My soul can not cope
My will, my resolve, my control you have tore
Effervescent as champaigne
Again tomorrow, our lips sing the refrain.
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