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No Rush To Perfection

Poetry By: Love Reaper

Tags: Love, Fantasy, Dream

When the mist of you soars.

Submitted:May 6, 2012    Reads: 3    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

This delightful sweet taste that vibrates my lips is bliss.
Blissful joy of your scent impaling my nose while your taste out tastes mine.

Oh my,
When I miss the softness I reminisce and the memory becomes anew(renew).
This monster deep inside me rises and fights for its sanity.
Yet becomes lost within its own blur.

Dizzy by love,
Paralyzed with lust,
Our seduction makes us cold,
Frozen in transgression of unmanaged power.... Touch me and I melt into your arms.
And when you do, I need not speak.
My eyes say all that needs to be said.

We escape where no one knows, where no one shall shatter or enter. For our most treasured desires lies ahead fatigued,
But stronger and willing.

What will it all become?


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