Jan 302015
 
Sewn together in a pouch of purrs
Hand on breast and mouth on thigh
We cannot make our moaning words
Or hiss a thesaurus into our kisses' sighs.

Each stroke of sex that turns us double
Or kinks our Xed zones to a core
Of double yolks where trapped tongues bubble
About the regions our mouths rub sore,

Undoes encyclopedias of saying,
Erases summations to addition's first tick
And cancels accounts we could be laying
With the hollow of a kiss' lick.

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