4. Hunting Ground

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A bed for her sultriness the cowslips curve their lips upwards
To catch her slumber heft and the espied nacre mauling her neck; rosed, obtesting my bents
I decompose_the ills of the world peerless to the blaze she riles in my chest and every parcel she touches without touch
In the vale's whispered air a drawn breath from her pattering case
Warm against the grazing's pea hair
My life is but my will when inhalation is bestowed upon me with a tickle of her winds adoring my nape, hallowing my spine's course
I ascend beheft of alternatives tinseled with what my airy damsel commands

A reveled folly she exalts amending the pines of my array to grooves of stray
Ambulating my maim trudge to sprees of frailty above the wine, fair and yellowy cluster that leads my providence to shelter
Where the dwelling of my glad servitude is but a haunt with her namesake
I defer my conceit in, my stature nothing but bent knees and abstained yen to be graced by the verdure of her sap-plunged index
This tongue giving me word is instrument she stums impromptu as the candle wans, undressing her light to insulating Dark

Sense left out on the tapestry of the room's door, blind to the the tracery her infrared gaze laces upon the linen of my limbs with cerise threads
I should only be confessing throat mute as hands rave about her eminence
Mounting my body, entrancing my soul decadently good
Fluent in what is found to be a gut-churning quirk only the toothed rehearsed
Blood a glamor of ferric nectar she guzzles when I morph into a conceding corse pending on the letch she kettles
To close on the palms of my most unregretful offence
Eat me and my wants whole in the glades your flesh nurture
My love and I have only ever been formed to feed your rose-bedded den

3/11/2023

Of Cotton And Clot ▪︎Poetry (4)Where stories live. Discover now