like a field i discovered, where i trace over patterns left by previous lovers
reading diaries on how they failed to conquer you
chapters left blank, with nothing but a pencil and time
hand drawing rainbows with watercolor pigmenting dye
the arc of your back, with melted oil enzymes
frozen moment in time, where we coil inside
tongue ready to taste sweat
your maple series reads like a workshop on sensuality. it verges on the brink of pornographic but always reigns it in before it becomes smut.
the writing is beautiful. it ranges from aggressive to withdrawn and reflective within moments. its compassionate and thoughtful.
i'll have to leave more detailed thoughts later when i've got more time and energy but i wanted to at least comment. thank you.
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Zack Wicks for president
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