Impossible to separate
This swell of flesh
from the way it has been held
caressed
raised high and loud and proud
in my plunging dress.
But, blinking
through a plethora of mouths and fingerprints
we see
the rude protrusion of the thing
a soft announcement of flesh
a kiss of darker skin
already puckering
a single hair, curled
no, but as the nipple hears its name
and reaches for the pleasure that attention promises
a second hair or one hair split
forked tongue from the same fine pore
curl out toward the sentry of my frame of vision.
This then
today
tomorrow I may pluck this slight distraction away.
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