Scrambled Senses

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.


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~ And Poetry After Dark