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Warm Honey

The scent of the man
Lingers
Her fingers
Lightly
the notion overwhelms
A kiss will tell
Surely?
to be absolved
in that man’s eye
under his skin
makes light
and dreaming
pastel play
in making
cries out
Oh the aching
where honey
warm and slow
Dripping
seeps into her flower
Breathing,
reaches out
in longing
and melts
into his fist.

Jesse Falk