You. Only You.
I don’t care for the others.
I cannot care for their hands, their lips or their passionate words. I don’t want to see their eyes filled with seduction.
I only want you, to touch me.
I am nourished by your touch, though my hunger never fades. I want more. Give me more than you can give.
Intoxicate my mind, submerge each waking thought, I wish to drown within sensations of your touch.
Your touch is my obsession, my blessed, blissful curse.
Touch me hard, or let it be gentle, hold me tight or maybe delicately.
Touch my silence, with your thoughts, with your wild and fearless mind.
Touch me through each word you think, write with pen upon my skin, tell our stories, scribble ink on every space.
Touch my flesh and soothe my aches or touch the depths within my mind, let your loaded kisses tenderize my pain.
I want to feel your brushing eyelash sweep against my naked breast, your arms to weave, leave knots, I want your voice to vibrate sharply through my chest.
Caress me, stroke me, pulsate veins within me. Be the softest breeze, the lightning’s strike, be the stormiest sea.
Make me shiver, move me, slip right in and rock me to my core.
I’m left restless from your touch, you always leave me shaken up, destructive, reckless, risking all, to feel it more.
When I see your raging fire, I lie smoldering from your flames, till your print leaves smoky brand marks on my skin.
Wrap your silky threads right through then cocoon me to protect, I’ll be reborn within the chrysalis of your touch.
Namaste: The New 4-Letter Word.
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