Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Lurking in the Corner of my Bellyache

I close my eyes softly.
My fingers touch hers
two opposing thighs brush in error.
A nose feels an ear in a whisper unclear
And a hand finds a place on a player

The bow sucks the air and the rosin declares
a friction of fury and lust.
The crunch of vibration
Stirs heated sensation
And the devil creeps out of the dust.

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