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Touching Me
by Aoife Elizabeth Keogh
It ain't his cheeky smile
Hanging on a dimpled cheek,
It ain't the romantic words
He'd so easily speak.
It's not the way he combs his hair,
Or the stylish type of clothes he'd wear,
It's not his gleaming blue eyes
that bring shame upon peering skies.
It's how he held me close,
Sending a pulse through my un-sunned body,
Running his fingers through thick and thin,
Awaiting a welcome reaction from within.
So whilst I wait within my unfriendly walls,
I ponder upon former sensual bliss,
Until I'm seduced by his next luscious kiss.
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