SlowA Poem by Shae
Come up slow. Drag your palms along my back, brief the touch, the bed is made. This is real for me, so be sure and present. Here's what I have for you, I will trace your everything with the swelling of my soul. Grow deep in you, but I'll come up slow, drag my palms along your back, brief the touch, the bed is made.
© 2014 Shae |
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