-27.04.16_17:22-

by dokurtybitz

Wanting
What isn’t here,
Two thousand
Eight hundred
Ninety-eight miles
Away.

Feeling her
Through my thoughts,
Touching,
Stroking,
Holding me tight,
As I stand throbbing,
Aching,
Whisper-chanting her name,
As I shake and rock,
Curling in upon myself.

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