Night Poetry

When the thoughts of your fantasy object just get too much and in one burst, you just have to write about it all; the fantasy itself, the tension with reality, the sober realisation of the inevitable – that it can and will never happen.

 

So take my mane
Twist it in your fist from behind
Use it to pull inside
The Wet

Go further
Push now
Do it all

Then what?

We keen
We dissect

It couldn’t be, it shouldn’t be

For what?
A hot fuck
My wet throb
Your hard probe

For a moment?

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