of sympathy and maternity,
of experienced lust.
She kisses my cheek with the
Sweet fury of a widow in black,
Her core pounding with lava.
She is viciously calculated,
Neither clean nor cruel.
Her heart warm enough
To ignite the eruption
And tame the improbable.
For all she is forgiving,
But will she do so
If I seclude myself?
Like an Aphrodite roving through the temple,
She seeks me but I am hidden,
Not ready yet.
There is more to probe about her.
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