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Rated: E · Poetry · LGBTQ+ · #1590909
a recent poem about lust
You run your fingers down my spine...
tracing every bone in line...
making a memory in your mind...
for when you seek to build my shrine.
You plan my death before I find...
the secrets that come up from behind.
Love can be so unkind...
when you burn the ties that bind.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1590909-Shrine