When love was rubbing my nobility
gently.
Often times
my love
Has come, to
be mine,
To the
sublime of wine,
In rest and
inner luxuriation,
Holding on
to my temptation.
Feeling the vein
Of my pulse
and adoration,
She took
hold gently squeezing,
The motion,
rotation,
That is well
known as pleasing,
Accompanying
me to glory,
We
endeavoured to share a story,
Climbing
higher to whence we came,
Well oiled
and sated.
Screaming wildly
on heavens name.
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