I want you.
That's
the damnest thing
of all.
'Cause I now know
the feel of your skin
against my own.
And I want it.
So much,
I can feel
the hunger in my belly,
and lower
between my legs.
Fuck this wine.
It makes me
more honest
than I'm
comfortable
to admit.
But worst of all
is the hunger
of the heart,
that you
temporatily
satisfied.
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