The old 

Departed bodies from long ago. We gave each other ether and sustenance in the old ages, in the ancient. We gave each other love, affection, tantalizing communication like puzzles.  Decocorated monuments in our nakedness. Brave and bold. My breath dressing the echoes of your moans for every season. Wisdomful and succulent thighs, abdomen made of honey and papaya. Breasts ever filling like full moons, I used to have rituals beneath your wonder. In between your dripping thighs, I was a great orator. Blasphemy! They would shout when I proclaimed you a goddess to my frail humanity. Your body as though crafterd by the wings of archangels and black holes. Blasphemy! They shouted when I exalted you above God. For your intelligence, your curiosity of the world knows no limits nor any rival. Ashé across the river that runs from your lips to your navel, I have spent years planting oak and birch across the borders of your terrain. We used to find euphoria in the silhouettes of our bodies running rampant across the ceiling and walls as they mimicked us in our foreplay. I write this knowing those days are gone and in a longing I write to remember the taste of your flesh. It’s part of the ancient now. Part of the monuments we used to ransack. It’s part of history now 

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