Slipped Thoughts

A slip of the tongue
a flick of the wrist
breath heathered
eyes Lordwards
snatch Devilwards
I feel your words trickle
down the inside of my thighs
and my own slick itself
to your fingers
for tasting later
for handling fruit with idle thoughts
imagining delving tongue
between soft ripe peach
and bed warmed fig.

God I love to watch you eat.

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3 thoughts on “Slipped Thoughts

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