Scrambled Senses
Published in
1 min readJan 27, 2017
Touch me
With the velvet glove
Of your voice.
Devour
Each fleshy morsel:
Hungry eyes.
Pleading,
Raised hips, raking nails,
Reach for contact.
Fragrance
Adhering to skin
Claiming.
Render
Speechless; tongue baptized:
Musk and salt.
Immerse
Senses into chaos;
Finish me.
Read more from Renae Tobias
~ And Poetry After Dark