A Roaming Itch

Basking in foam
with a roaming itch betwixt us,
your vibrating lips shape desire
into something expressive.
You’re so permissive, it’s inspiring!
Now my tiring treks
through tuneless tundras
as I sought for tokens of spring
seem wholly justified.
The crush I had kept inside
has fried my intuition
in a most delicious way.
We hold the moment as we may,
as day arises new
and sheepish from its casket
to beg of us our blood.

-r. miller

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