Sex is not a four-lettered word
she fills up people like gasoline
she gives, speaks, and gargles
in the process
tender, reflective hostess
Sex is not what I perceive
to be the highlight
she lives deep, deep in the crackles
of a woman's colorful thighs
dark empress
a mission with constellations
the stars are children
she has a basket of kittens
I did not believe the aftermath
Grandmother Earth cried in excitement
her complexion so fertile
her oceans so keen.
Author notes
Another robo-binge poem.
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