Every bold caress I make
Is a knock on your hardwood heart
For answer, there were your sighs,
Your barely-there moans
Punctuating each steady slide of hand
On smooth toasty skin
How do I begin
To think when
It’s sweltering beneath the linen sheets
I stare, transfixed at
Sweat beads blooming through your pores
Purifying your skin
Of the day’s dust and dreariness
Nothing but a sharp tang on the tongue
That I touched you with
Shocked you with
Bolts of curious desire
A fire you didn’t want to die in
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