A Thought for Every Word

I reach for a velvet hand
concealed in a suede impostor
batteries at the ready

Begging for release
hidden deep within the
vaginal walls of complacency

Longing replaced with cold
empty thoughts of writhing
bodies sweat soaked

A moan escapes aloud
unbidden guests enter
warm dark spaces

Approaching the ledge
stopping to glance down
at the swelling flesh

Release is not sweet orgasm
nor cherished treasure
it reeks of solitude

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