I don't know if you can feel me in the garments
wrapped around your every curve,
that I warm myself through each stitch and thread touching you,
alive with every single move grazing and igniting friction,
years have been spent there closely studying limbs and pores.
There are so many places to wander and inhabit.
The tied bows and metal clips holding the lovely waves of your hair,
in autumn the winds sail through and I tingle with your follicles,
when the sun strikes and you brush each soft fragrant lock
I'm overwhelmed by the mysterious gardens they embody,
the sweet perfumes filling me.
I don't know if you can feel my fingers traveling down your neck,
the sensitive groove of your collarbone that my lips surround,
summoning a soft gasp, teeth biting your lower lip as you lift your hips,
each touch turning your bones weightless with the years
I've learned what precisely torches your body.
And there are more places to find the intricacies of.
The moonlight striking your eyes and the sheets,
they're like dark and endless shining rivers
searching me along wrinkling clouds,
thin garments sliding off and away from you
And I tingle with the friction of every smooth aching pore
and creamy leg unfolding when limbs lean and tangle
and embody the sweet perfumed air overtaking me.
And there are places only you and I can find here.
I know your shadow is my own now as our giddy fumblings
smooth into the choreographed rhythms that ravenous instincts conduct,
these cresting and trembling naked waves made when I'm inside you,
there's no receding from here.
Only pulsing clenches,
coiling, lapping tongues, fiery wet rivers and combustions
overtaking me and filling you.
There are countless places along you that I love,
but the place where we join and
find blissful thresholds together
is unlike any place I could know alone.