Original Sin

Whispers find you across miles of miles.
Each syllable seeks those places you try to hide
Knowing all along it is there you need to go.
Each phrase touches you with fingers that graze,
Caressing and kneading your falsehoods away.
They move over you, through you, down you,
Spreading and opening you wide in wonder
With dreams that make you yearn to be filled.
Sentence after sentence kisses your lips
And dances hungrily  upon your tongue.
Warm words drip and pour over you like honey
Flowing over your neck, your breasts, 
Eagerly anxiously calling for the poet
To feast upon you and cleanse you of your sin.


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