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Whisperer

He slices through you like a scream. His words
beguile you: peaceful stream. Through blades
you bound that swat slick skin; red birds
alight the places you have been. He wades
and beckons, waits for you, with whispers wet
as meadow dew. From ankle, knee then hip
to waist until your lips are opened, let
to taste relentless water, pours from drips.
Your throat receives a river like a gift.
Submerged and sanguine in darkest dreams,
a mindless float towards your demon drift.
Awaken wet absent both thoughts and stream,
beneath tall trees, your cheeks crusted with lust
and bloody fingers speak to secrets hushed.

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