Poetica 45

My hair rises every time you whisper by my right ear.
My eyes light up to you delivering the erotic news.
Your hands make their way to the mic fearlessly.
Soon your lips follow them to this private speaking.
As my mind follows each of your sensual licks.
Your experienced tongue is busy sealing all my leaks.
You bring your skilled interview to an abrupt stop.
Dropping the headline and climbing atop.

I know we are headed for the press.

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