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Click hereVexing, these curves
Washing my sight
Where rising begets rising
Heaving birthing heaving
What rose petal peaks
Pebbled round within round;
Carnal, this boiling rain,
When sweat is sheen on white;
Thin curled satin spun
Over that cleft of
Slight parted wet between
Grasping trunks, dimpled
And urgent, topping
Tickled toes, agile and teasing.
A dancing lilt up over surging calves
Leads to soft handing ripe.
Sweet flowering full flower,
To bud and bloom your figure,
Weaving your tendriled scent
With passion’s torrent, you stop
My breath,
You grin. I am
Speechless.
...and the the word play, until I came to the last two lines. What would happen if you ended with "you stop my breath", leaving the reader at the same spot as you...?