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Coitus Memorabilia.

Pulling hair.
Skin upon skin.

Lovely melody
erupting,
rising up
from within her.

Bites, scratches,
oozing etches,
designs down my back
serving
as memorabilia.

Triggers,
violent and sweet,
warm, wet, electric.

Smell it:
the leather dancing
with the sweet scent
of satiation,

desires leaving
their former captors surfing
a wave of bliss
out of that, out of this,

a blast of warmth,
that seems, in that moment,
to make all
the bitter cold blasts
of wind well worth it.

Remember it.

Stoke the fires
of recollection
as often
as you are capable.

Remember it,
for this never lasts,
never lasts.

Beautiful moments trapped
in amber
to keep me going.

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