Quiver
Imagine a tongue. Starting from your knee and trailing-up your thigh. Each second is a minute and you can feel each follicle stand erect in waves. Every exhale is course and shallow. Inhale, your honeyed fellow. Fingertips are God's wands, and your skin becomes a trap, luring and incapacitating. You're hot yet you shiver, and you feel weak though passionate. And all of this is just from looking. Whew.
Spectating from the Sand
Women.
Their skin of supple sliding waves upon the shore and crevices delving like the deepest of oceans never to be fully explored.
Sea foam; sea life; shore breeze, these are all women.
Beautiful and daring; ever bearing their own unique properties.
Women.
Smooth and sleek like the look of a shimmering dolphins tail glistening in moonlight invoking curiosity; wonder; and enchantment embodied by you.
Mystery; science; vision, attempting balance.
Deeper than the sea in every fathom.
Women.
The Distance (Part II)
You speak of daydreamed worlds of simple bliss,
Of lips and legs entwined and hearts on fire.
But waking shatters feelings of your kiss
That linger on my mouth from sleep’s desire.
My mind replays our perfect whispered plot,
Your arms wrapped tight to hold me near and warm.
But blankets’ hugs are likened to be bought
With empty coin like whores in knitted form.