Weave a filament of fishnets
Lipstick, allure.
Drawing lust like lines
in hosery toward love.
A bobbing, weaving bunker of love.
Love like
“I love to watch you strip yourself bare.”

Barely touching,
filaments sparking
against fantasies in my mind
Closed clothes that give no hint
No shadow, no filler to
my filament.

Is it meant to
make me sick? Sticky
slick between my legs
Opened and clsoed
like we’re dancing
and undressing
and weaving.
Veins and vines of lusty love
like “I love you.”

Love to burrow into you
weave hairs like threads
around my fingers
and tug you down
into a foamy dream
foaming at the mouth
foam of the sea.

And at the end of our affair–


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