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Pulse RatesHeart beats and breaths are love poems of the flesh which delight in gliding over beads of sweat while hearts pound and hairs mesh into waves of desire rising into tumults of delicious sweetness Later when lovers' eyes meet as their bodies enmesh desire seems replete Is the only proof of esctacy are a few hairs on a pillow or wrinkles on some sheets? True romantics say "no" and dismiss such things Ah but questions linger . . . |
