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Jul 12, 2008

What I fear will happen.


Touch, kiss, lick,
“I’m sorry.” Whispered my lips.
Hands roam further,
Eyes see more.
“I’m sorry.” Once again slips from my weak lips.
What I touch burns, hardens, and quivers.
“Ah! I’m sorry, that your sorry.” He tells me.

“Don’t be sorry. Be with me.”
I crawl over his body,
And cover him with my shaking one.
I lick his lips,
I kiss his neck,
I touch his cheek.
“I’m sorry.” I murmured into his shoulder blade.

“Stop lying. Tell me the truth. What do you really feel?” He asked.
His strong arms held me away from him.
I look down into his eyes.
My mouth opens.
My tongue runs over my dry lips.
“You are mine.” My voice said.

I slowly come to rest once again on his chest.
My lips met his,
And his tongue met mine.
I’m sorry my husband to be,
You will not have a virgin bride.
I’m sorry.
I press my body into his.

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