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Muted Echoes

Tags: dark
Fortuitous are those that see,
sensuality is ebony and silent.
So goes the night.
Muted echoes. 

Like libations 
of my quill.
I write swill
of erotic chills. 

Spilling over darken clouds,
into the dawn of new morn.
Like a blanket of dew,
my vampire wings cover you. 

Like libations 
of my quill.
I scribe new birth,

My penis throbs fornication.
Precum dripping lust,
like every day's forever.
My gift of immortality. 

Like libations
of my quill,
Penning with my ink,
muted echoes.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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