My Cup Runneth Over
By heinzs
My Cup Runneth Over I shall partake of thee as if thou wert of finest spirit - a rare wine. Your bouquet already fills my palate with its sweet liquor. I savor you, and in that touch your soul shall open redemption's door. Each ort, each morsel, sanguined in glory I make my own. Your heavenly scent infuses me with soft desire. A touch shall be my wish - your warmth against my pallid flesh. Yearning hunger feeds my ardor with passion's fruits. To taste of your sweet lips shall carry me to drunken ecstasy. I long to hold you in my arms and savor of your heavenly charms. 3/8-3/11 2002 Written March 12th, 2002 © on Mar 11 2002 03:02 PM PST, Heinz Scheuenstuhl 0 • 10
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"My Cup Runneth Over..."