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Pussy

Soft blue in the morning.
Winter still, but
we’re sleeping late these days.
“Lick me a little,” she says.
I go for it hungrily.
I love sucking pussy.
Especially her pussy:
dark-ringed flower,
vibrant
pulsating
reaching out,
the petals swamped with dew.
Of course it’s you.
It was always you.
I’ll be there nevermore,
my love.

EDDIE WOODS

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