His hair was black, Raven black,

Within his eyes, sweet, tortured cries,

My fingers running down his back

In his breath, all that I lack,

Bodies arched, clothes torn apart,

Each thrust felt closer to my heart,

His name, his name, upon my lips,

His hand firmly holding on my hips,

Pushing, pulling, grinding heat,

The taste of sticky sweat so sweet,

Moaning, begging, crying, oh please,

He lay beside me after, still,

Love like this no other will,

Then whispered words I longed to hear,

As once again, he drew me near.

~Teri Skultety
from Red Line Wine

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