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I like to watch you, my King, Sleep. It’s when my lips, upper thighs, And throat are most free. Free from your hands, Arms, And legs. Free to imagine, How I’ll be consumed by you next. Next, when you wake, With your sweeter embrace, Shaping the line that’s my side, Grasping firmly, Softly, Molding against me like clay. Your skin, Sienna and copper, Mixed with hints of mint. Leaning back I kiss,