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Those long lost empty palms,
Of longing and visual debauchery,
Imagination so wild,
Yet curves so highly fragile,
The fire within so warm,
Fiery eyes, shivering fingers and thighs calm,
Oh, she missed him all night long,
The wait was felonious and desires enraged,
Of endless moments and centuries sacred,
A forest of his passion,
A beauty mirroring psalm,
A footstep before caution,
A kinship so pure,
Those scars chanting his name
and her body …

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