October
Undress me
Allow the fog of fall
To suckle away these nipples
That loathe the lonely night.
My fading throat is thirsty still
For a bite of meaning.
Tired of the touch
From hands that know me too well.
Predilection. Investigation. Reveal.
Plucking more strength from the fucking...
The fucking off,
of love's labor's lost.
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