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When I saw you by the door with that Cup

which went from crystalline to pearly and

the lacy sleeve of the blouse and your beautiful

Hand soaking up the Holy, Sacred -- Milk,

from then until now I am not the same no way.


The moon had hidden in the room, in any

corner, putting a blue, lilac, stellar light outline

in the curve of the vase to imitate your Breast.

And the purity-soaked lace sleeve and your

beloved, milky hand spattered, gushed love.


So much love. So much white mild, bland

flame to burn me, oh, to burn and purify me.


Sitting across from me to wrap myself

between your thighs, your honey hair,

you made me drink It, and be reborn;

and the purity ran down my neck, my chest

where your lips went to kiss it, your tongue.


My thumb of fire ripped from your nipple

another platinum drop, and when day dawned

my heart was the sun, your gaze, the sea, the see

of amber, coming and going, loving and loving.



Igor Buys

Ilha Grande, April 21, 2021

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