If we synchronize our watches maybe we won't run out of time, the steady tick of the clock matching the beat of our hearts.

Devotion measured not in what is said but rather felt.

Your hands as they roll over me like waves, taking me under.

This darkness mirrors what is within.

The day fading gracefully into darkness, indigo that cloaks the night in fathomless whispers; some for lovers some for loners.

There is simple honesty in an unwavering gaze and fingers threaded in belonging.

Scarlet thoughts that bleed out with my blush unmasking me.

The most potent first impressions are a dangerous cocktail of looks, personality and wit with a dash of lust thrown in for a kicker.

Blanket me with the warmth of your tender embrace for when the cold winds howl and bite, I want to feel naught but your touch.

She is steel encased in velvet.

The shedding of what had been to make room for what is to be: physically, emotionally, intellectually, sexually. A rebirth, a recognition of true self as I uncover layers heretofore undiscovered.

There is wonderment and whimsy in this journey from chrysalis to butterfly; no one more eager to see, to feel the metamorphosis than myself.

For someone so independent asking for help, accepting help is very hard. When you've had to be your sole support system and comfort for most of your life, this reckoning is uncomfortable.

These hips don't lie.

be the, inspiration the reason, they dream

The time is always later than you think. You think you have more time until you don't.

Dusk, and I become bold with my desires - for what can be ignored in daylight, what smoulders unseen behind my eyes, cannot be doused when night falls.

This lover's gaze will be the spark to the tinder in your soul; a heated kiss felt with every lift of my lashes.

A girl who's a fire starter and a boy who loves flames.

He looks at her and knows that serenity burns quietly but fiercely.

This fire burns deep and long.

When you've had the sit down meal, the fine dining, why would you settle for fast food?

Snippets and crumbs do not feed a soul but crush it.

Uncover and discover me like a piece of vintage vinyl my sound music to your ears.

Wickedness times two is double the pleasure.

I woke to thoughts of you and realized my body had been immersed in you for hours.

I will wear this crown of fire your breath upon me the oxygen to make the flame dance higher a beautiful burn that purifies the dark of the past.

There's a truth in the gentlest touch that prompts a violence in the heart.

Miles ahead of us, the past in the rearview mirror your hand upon my thigh and our voices raised in song together.

Torturous confessions of the soul, we pen in the dark, bloodletting in eloquent verse, we bloom in red.

Memorize me under fingers and tongue like chapter and verse.

Black and white images made technicolor with a touch.

She is gathered together like fiery Autumn leaves waiting to fall and with his every breath it is inevitable she bares yet another piece of herself.

Secrets don't sleep they are not silent they pulse beneath the skin and fill your thoughts keeping you on the edge of a blurted truth.

A threshold to cross where touch becomes so much more.

At night I look to the heavens for poetry dispersed amid midnight blue stars become words aflame with passion and promise a lover's note.

She is the whisper that spoke a truth you'd never heard before light that brightened days and warmed nights a touch that healed and held but prompted an ache of desire so strong your only wish was to always be closer

There is nothing like the exhaustion of a worn out soul.

Her delicate touch was wildfire to his soul, burning everything in sight.

Meeting someone in their moment cannot be overrated nor underestimated. Whether emotionally, sexually, or even just how you present yourself to the world.

The persistence of my smile, lifting and settling as thoughts meander and swirl.

Soft and dreaming things that take shape when we aren't looking.

The language of touch is what I'm fluent in.

These waves keep crashing upon my shore, and though violent, I would not shun their touch for it is what reminds me of what beats inside of me.

It must be Lover Girl Era

Monday thought: Would you cut off all your limbs when you're trying to learn how to walk?

The sun cresting behind the clouds Rutilant light, golden and majestic The sun burning as it sets As I burned with his touch