Sunday, February 3, 2013

akin to fight

your lips raw, 
and blood red

and the slowly fading voices
hiding behind 
my nails over your skin
the moans

while you 
roam with your hands 
all over the territory of my body
and reward me 
with all of you
and I
with the leftover residuals 
of me

behind the windows 
lies the bright city
of our impulses and desires 
inside we are careless 
of our falling fingers and bodies 

this has been a good fight.

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