Calm wistful mornings

Drop sand distant to a tune made melody
Pounding counterpoint to soft gasps
Quiet bitten lip moans
Being quiet for too thin walls
Open to the endeavors of pain
Break wave and skin taught
Beads of sweat
Cold in the rooms still air
Eyes meet
Even in passions throws
Small towel and soft cover
Cutting out cold
Taking fierce care while being taken
Into ear the growl of
“Mine”
And thus I’m lost again

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