Belly, of woman

He took her throat
With his tongue
Language’s
Lashing

The overtly
Betweenless
Are easy prey
Victorially frozen
Victimed and delight
Cones from Mr. Scoop
Some character of sadly
Sadist’s satire suck sickly
Until saccharine is the she
The sanctimonious shrine
Dicks fed as brine to fish
Solace in verbal’s empty
Threats, He licks her off
The widowing window
Defenseless, half

As she was, no period
Not quite yet, still a
Runoff sentence

But when it came…

Aged as ashes, slit flick
wood burned from
A fire-place
She did
Come
To
Conscious
And too, with you

I will apologize profusely
When I finally bleed

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