The Claw of Passion
Passion grew wilder
with each flying night
she clawed at sheets with the awakening memories
of his tongue
painting every corner of her canvas
with lustful colors
A rose
her rose
Stroking each petal so perfectly
brisk strokes sending a series
of sweet sensations
like a masochist holding onto a thorny rose
emitting stains of red
from the bittersweet agony
Her mind is clouded
with vivid shades of red
The law of passion
never tells a lie
The claw
has a sturdy grip
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