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Light Touch
my fingers ...
are moonbeams
and like that porcelain light
I let them dance upon you, bare -
tiptoe across your shy
places with a
delicate (but intent)
adoration ...
many, the times they've made
this dermal sojourn
yet each is as if the first -
softer, sweeter, sure that the journey is
as savory as it’s end
each inch, it's own mystery ...
here-and-there your flesh jumps and
rises as you coo and sigh -
little bumps follow that spread
to the rest of you
like moonlite spattering the sea …
but your sea is mine -
beneath my touch ...
deeper
darker
warmer
and where I long ...
to drown.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, December 29, 2022
Copyright ©
Gregory Richard Barden
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