Your fingers
move,
glide,
twirl
against my skin
as if you’ve never touched
something so delicate,
but I can feel
the fire
fighting against
the soft,
the need
pushing past
the pretense
and you grab me,
your strong hands
going to work
on my hot desire
and we are a mess,
a disaster made of
craving and words,
flesh and forgetting.
We join
in the sweetest way
while the yearning rips
from my lips,
for I am yours.
Here.
Now.
I am yours.
~Patience
Very nice. I like the simplicity.
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Thank you! 🙂
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You are very welcome. Just found you. On my way to read more. 😉
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Well, thank you for reading. 🙂 🙂
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