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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

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a poem for my lover

 

I love
my hands on the curve of your back
our legs wrapped
when I can't feel
where I end and you begin
the feel of hair moving against smooth skin
my mouth, breathing your breath
when our teeth touch and tongues tease
I love your beard tickling
behind my knees
and shoulders
across my stomach
I love
myself, when I'm with you

Anstey - on June 7 2008
This is really quite lovely.
Callooh - on June 8 2008
Thanks Stephen....
Derma Kaput - on June 9 2008
Yeah, very very nice.
Callooh - on June 11 2008
Thanks.
Laurie - on June 11 2008
Mmmm, this put me in the mood! Nice!
Norm milliken - on Dec. 23 2009

Simply delicious poetry.


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