Creative Consciousness At Its Best! || Cherilyn Ferroggiaro <bgsound src="http://www.meetingofthemindsjournal.com/11thIssue/04.mid" loop=true>

Meeting of the Minds JournalCherilyn Ferroggiaro

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The Orchard

my lips have not been kissed since you left. they quiver at the thought, await weakened, wet--- i sit in stillness, thoughts ripe like peaches round on the bough, stretching, moaning high above orchard's grasp. i am not patience, i want to taste you, run fingers across breast, touching, biting until the flesh becomes mine. i will drink from your mouth, like aged wine, slowly dripping from cherried lips, intoxicating my every curve. stroke me if you will, glide eagerhand up caramel thigh, feel me tremble, yes, feel it. i am a million lovers, a thousand rhythms, sunlit mornings after rain--- i am the orchard.
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