Lay Still

Imagine me touching your skin
Fleeting like a thought
Staying like a memory
You wish never to forget
Beneath my touch, my fingers
Inside you burning is a silent cry
I hear it,
I won’t stop feeding your ache
In moments it will soon erupt
Bringing us that thing we crave
We are givers of pleasure
Sworn to pleasure each other unequivocally.

Jean-Pierre, Dean
5-28-06…3:30 pm
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