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Manufacturing Maternal Instinct?

"Maybe she's born with it, maybe..." she's not.

- Seer of Visions -
Gasping for light in pitiless darkness,
All I find is flesh forth coming
For rigid finger tips to intrude
Upon a silky sodden beds.

What water impinges it within?
In ecstasy or denial you continually screech
In the darkness as your solemn fear
Your solitary horror the intimacy of darkness.

Lips turned pale from the chilling
Relocation of my plump redness
All returned into swollen firmness
Of this haunting darkness.

Darkness that corrupts such light
And what blight corrupts ahead to
Willingly spread your soul and allow
The darkness' intrusion beneath you.

A hallowed horror is the gasp,
A harbored horror has broken free
From its reigns and set to sail,
To the deep wet sodden gully.

A cry of relief is all I know
And a curdled fear is all I know,
Darkness no longer impinges the light
The light now broken free impinges all things.

And this was written for me by a former lover.