Sunday, February 13, 2011

Maya Angelou


Your hands easy
weight, teasing the bees
hived in my hair, your smile at the
slope of a cheek. On the
occasion, you press
above me, glowing, spouting
readiness, mystery rapes
my reason

When you have withdrawn
your self and the magic, when
only the smell of your
love lingers between
my breasts, then, only
then, can I greedily consume
your presence.


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