thach weave, pt. viii

calm.
tense.
outdone
by the identity of horns.
bra outlines
and bodies on fire.
anticipation took advantage
and stirred me.
stopped.
buried like a beast
high on breathing
the whispered phrases
upon his neck.
tightened tension
comes up to plunge,
lips shattered and whirled
in full prey.
heart racing
and i can’t help it.

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