The Piecemeal Man (abmann) wrote,
The Piecemeal Man

Awash in ardor.
It is the lonely man's bane
to let stasis set.


Naked in the sea,
we soothe distance with the tide.
Lilies in a pond.


Dark amber syrup,
I shall lick it from your breast.
Resplendent woman.


Chasing through the sedge.
We, fleet foot and shrinking clothes,
giggle like the wind.


Where goes the firefly
when the night shifts into day?
They become the sun.


Tantilizing flesh.
I remember the peaches
of your softened lips.
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