Midnights Voice (November 3,1950 / Selma, Alabama)
The H(owl) Of The Night
The bird of worst hour
delivers an empty box of kisses.
On feathered wings with round
feathers so silent, so not even
the mice hear a thing
The bowl of raspberries to deliver.
But your lips burn with a scent of ecstacy.
Flesh shudders when your hot lips touch my skin
H(old) to hug, then kiss.
My lip to your lips, eye into eyes, bliss.
Take my love as I devour yours.
Giving all that is yours.
Wrestle down love to it's lowest core,
make you feel desired once more.
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