Its cold and its dank.
Its muddy and wet.
But all these things make it a perfect fit.
Beneath the bridge I sit.
Leaving a genital kiss.
Mud coats my shoes,
My mind fills with images of you.
The water trickles over the rocks in the drain,
Perfect yet man made.
Its our secret hide away.
Known by all.
But special to us because or in spite of its faults.
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