Like losing myself in the collar on your t shirt. My focus so fixed so complicated yet so simple. Should I try to calm this tempest? Do I want to?
Should I not notice how the material sits against your skin? Should I not envy those threads so close to you?
When thoughts of just brushing against you cause such a beautiful flow of energy. Every fibre left wanting. This is not a craving. It’s a fucking revelation.
I’m not starving because you’re always inside of me. I’m not drowning in you I’m wading waist deep and deeper still.
Your gaze so deeply penetrating. Like the August sunshine burning my skin.