but freely given
as the depth of my exhale
before gasping for you
is measured timelessly
in proportioned precision
to the intensity of your touch
designed for my skin alone;
a static sparking
of incendiary friction,
a magnetic attraction
of organic satisfaction.
your words breath life into the reader.. :-).. so beautiful..
petite morte divine
“in proportioned precision
to the intensity of your touch
designed for my skin alone;” I like that!