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Deliquesce of a Spoken Word

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Just
let the steam sway from the ice
as I thaw from the causatum of
your old cold shoulder.
Again, I feel my fingers twitch
with twinges of warmth in the
mist, as I,
kissed by your lips, heat up
in the moment and redden
under the fever of your love,
once again,
and it burns like the fires of
Hell but resonates among
me like the glow of
Heaven.
In the sensual essence hidden
among the blistered
innocence
is the vivid Vivaldi-esque
aria swimming from my
lips to your ear's
den.
Wandering sensations explore every
crevice or chasm or
bloodened path
but nothing is felt as my toes
search for the ardor.
Amity resigns? To the
recesses of your palms?
Go. Let the sweat
drip
off the frigid body until it's
left what's left
of my feet.



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