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Ode to your Bosom

R. J. Frogvarian

As you hold me close
To the source of your love
That evokes in me prose
Unknown, before, in woe.

Those precious mountains!
My tongue encircles the peaks,
Your breath slightly falters,
Smiles across our cheeks.

Now we lay together bare of clothing,
bare of restraints on the soul,
the mind, the shame, nothing,
nothing stopping two halves wanting to be whole.

And never mind those only looking down on our love,
And on those who, as we, dare love.

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