Love making

The whirl of her lips
Playfully wrong. Enticingly right.

The swirl in her eyes
The color swiveled. Two refracting kaleidoscopes.

The furl of her body
Echoes of ricochet of the perfect fulcrum.

The curl of her tongue
A tentacle, so disobedient, always undue

The pearl inside her oyster
Beautifully concealed, a perfect exhibit

The gnarl of her endless cosmos
Amorphous and circumfluous

And deposits of lust, that with time
Become their own landforms

And the tumor, her flesh has become
No oncologist can cure.

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