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Tell me more


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If words could form
from the noises you make,
and don't,
I would sing them into a song
for you.
Each whispered breath
and syllabel
muffled
under tongue
calls to me
and fills
my empty spaces,
as they do yours.
You prove to me
worthiness,
both in your eyes
and mine.
I softly feel
the linen,
the fabric we have
yet to wash
and still have matted
still,
while hands grace
every part of me
you cannot fulfill
with lips
and your powerful sway.
I am imortalized
in the potent hum
of the
ceiling,
and your delights.
I hunger for more
just as you have,
only more
of what
and how
you have to offer...
Please,
while your mouth is full,
tell me more.
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