in agony is relief
fine threads of pain
bubble up the sticky
sweet
along the surface,
grazing the fine hairs,
working its way along
the milky white.
for what do you suffer
but for
the hope of suffering
again
decadent
luscious
filled whole with this
for
torturing tomorrows
and
bellowing mornings,
lapping,
savoring forgiveness
all of this arousal and
only
ecstasy to be had
so much more
so very
much
more
if you are willing to
take it in
and keep it there behind
the eyes
where memory plays and
faint pain
is but a breath away,
lingering like the
repressed,
cowering in the dark
crying
soft
whimpers for
the suffering to return.
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