Act of Love

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Over this sticky mound of us--You flaccid and sagging into sleep,Exuding, after the diligence of your response,The sour smell of the unbathed;Me, lingering flatly on banality,The euphemistic ."Act of Love,."Requiring you again, yet reluctant to excess,Remembering the always grey-glue-driftingWeakness of waking.Over us hangsThe shriveled hollowness of sublimity.

© Warr Bertram