Swagazine #4

Shh!    by Swagman

Nip me softly in the silent flesh
In that secret hollow
Where I savor your pleasures
Where you in red spike heel
Pumps and billowy pleated
Skirts stand akimbo
Over subway grates
On hot August nights with
A case of the seven year
Itch just begging to be scratched

And in the morning
When this wetness bakes dry
Sunlit and harsh
Where crow and buzzard await their turn
After you toss aside my spent carcass

I will remember you and call it love


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