Your sweat so sweet,
mingling with the juice of your peach,
faces covered with streams of nectar.
Embraces burned, flesh reddened from passion
unbridled by fire running rampant in our hearts.
Something deeper never felt, singed our nerves.
Sun scorched grass cannot compare
to the burned silk sheets, of our
momentary inferno that lives forever,
in our delirious mind's eye. . .
Timothy Michael DiVito c1993
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