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Poetry: iLust

May 28, 2013
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The feeling of fulfillment eludes me yet this bottomless plate never leaves my table,

I indulge in the delicacy that is her bosom

Her quarters are a highwayman’s inn- a paradise before paradise if that’s where you’re headed

It’s a feast for the ever hungry- her wisdom is porous and unto us this blessing lays bestowed. Yet her soul stays permeable only to knowledge and truth. Only the knowledge of truth can repel & propel this Nomad’s adorning favour in her temple.

I pit in the delight of the morning’s glory- it only takes a stroke for her to saddle up horsey

And off I go until the next stop, the desert is my den with no Casbah.

I am bound to the crusade of love’s progress

To freedom’s course my life is enslaved

When you are called to serve life dish it as you are meant to and let it all air as you exhale the nostalgia of where you rose from this morning

Forget the scent of her,
Forget the warmth that succeeds her lips,

Ignore the bite-marks on your neck and the engraving work she did on your back

Deafen your drums to her squeal as you mounted her to produce and ooze out raging gushes of pleasure upon which your name remains tattooed as her sweetest taboo

For this is not to be chained to memory’s penitentiary,
Never to be hoarded by the clingy limbs of familiarity

But to consummate the void of her present absence, I ride out to explore a brand new existence and as dusk settles in I turn to her stable to lay my head on the innkeeper’s hay

*walks over to say hello to the new Her


Written By: @88th_Rogue

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