There is no sin in desire,
in running my fingers
across the muscled wall of your chest,
or getting lost in the muskiness 
of your scent.

There is no sin in passion,
in opening for you
with no expectation for tomorrow — 
only endless presence,
sheer sensation,
pure now.

There is no harm in pleasure,
in mutual appreciation,
delicate exploration,
total abandonment
of doubt.

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