Your voice rings out
Like the bells that you
Have hung onto your name
And I salivate
Each time I hear them
As is my Pavlovian way
Your words follow me
Throughout my day they tease
Filling my pockets
With desire and need 
And want and lust
My response to you
Drips down my thighs
I seek out the depth
And fire
Your flame rises
At my request
Even in our silence
We both just know
Passion is on auto-pilot
And we stay consumed
What a lovely way to burn

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About Lucinda L. Flanary

3 1
For many years, I was a retail clerk aspiring to be an artist...then I realized that I am really an artist aspiring not to be a retail clerk...I am a poet, a published short fiction writer, photographer, painter and crafter...I believe in re-appropriating found objects and finding morbid beauty in the more and motto is "Be broken"...
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IT WAS SAN FRANCISCO, Indian summer, the October sky blue and enormous. It was mid-afternoon in the Mission district...
by William Taylor Jr