Kiss the words from my mouth again

I want to kiss the words from your mouth
my poet,
pierce the crease of imagination
my artist,
slip past timid inhibition, releasing
through each famished pore
as much, or more
as I empty this brush over and over,
slowly…
quickly, rhythm and stroke.

Squeeze me, mold me –
slender fingers long with lust
hold me.

I will ooze through your eyes and
over nipples polished slick,
rich and thick with the scent of warm clay,
oils congealing on neck and chin.

Lift your beautiful arms again,
my easel,
spread your fingers,
hold my chest, a canvas,
press your pink into my skin,
and when we are done,
I will hang limp, lifeless, still
in some gallery.

But soon, desire wakens…

I want to kiss the words from your mouth
my poet,
again.

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