a nectar, the juicy pulp,
the salt of you, sliding slowly down your skin.
Liquid, beads of perfectly formed golden tastes of you, dampening your forehead, just beneath your hairline, the colors changing as they spill towards parts untanned.
Caught in a kiss, a wet mouth, a brief crush.
Let your sweat become mine, let ours create more, let us mingle.
And allow an afternoon breeze to stir up, wick away the wet, and leave us slightly shivering...
requiring us to collide again, if only to stay warm.
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