There are moments, senses lost I become
a flurry of chaotic need, a yearning forms within
my core. Desire that transcends the simplicity
of imagination like winters mist circling
my limbs I feel there your fingers.
Tender kisses upon skin, trailing my breastbone
your breath a whisper calling unto desire
lost within your tantalizing thoughts and
teasing truths my senses become a blur
of eruptive forces, lust perches upon my lips,
passion circles my tongue, need tingles within
and I am lost, to you, lost unto you.
Karen Hayward ©2016