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	<title>Slit</title>
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	<description></description>
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		<title>Messenger</title>
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		<description>  I save you
  for my last,
  my love,
  as kisses cut   the lip-slit moan   into the smallest pieces.

  Adoring   every edge I tear-   your neck's white throbbing   bare beneath
  deep silver's cold caress. 
     Your blue-eyed stare
   bleeds out the hours
  assembled where my hidden eyes   devise the language of your limbs
  So, they will speak a terror.  </description>
		<dc:creator>Celticlion</dc:creator>
		<category>Poetry</category>
		<pubDate>Fri, 09 May 2008 13:42:59 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-566-poetry#comments</comments>
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