XXXIV, by Sumit Singh
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i slipped my fingers into your scalp
and they're dancing to ecstasy
the hairs falling on like strands
taking you to utopia of my fantasy
i move further, to gather
your eye-lashes to flutter with mine
i rub my nose with smooth sensing
white hill, i love of my kind
i make of my lips an 'O'
on your lips, to move back and fro
i'm sucking the white unaware tissues,
i'm running my curves of speaking
provoking the seduction of mine and you
the way your earbells rings to me
the moment i feel them coming
the way the stones of my mouth, bite it
how incredibly i see your face beaming
the swirl of my speak go into it,
the domain of my lips, they exhale, and speak
the backyard of senstivity, by my, got explored
the loneliness of my being to you, i've no cure |
Posted: 2005-10-13 19:50:23 UTC |
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