His touch was soft,
So much that often I wouldn’t even notice it was there.
But every now and then,
He’d put in rainbow passion,
suntan reality, and Christmas intensity,
When he wrapped his hand around my waist.
When he did,
My bare waist could feel his calloused hands,
My breath danced to its rhythm,
And my spine would arch like a quivering bow.
His kiss was gentle,
So much that often I only tasted love in it.
But every now and then,
He’d press his body against mine,
And put his lips below my ear,
On my neck and kiss.
My legs would melt right then,
And I’d lean against his lips,
My hands on his hip.
He’d kiss my neck like it had rained in a desert,
and he’d suck hard to take everything I did not love about me,
Out and replace it with summer lust,
Sexy poetry, and human fire.
His hands often caressed my thigh,
But sometimes it trekked north,
And my breath left my soul,
And my soul filled with insanity.
His heart often beat against mine,
But sometimes it was my heart and his lips,
And when he kissed,
I moaned.


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