If you must know…
She smells of rosewater when the ease of her settles into me.
She feels like the calm of a lifetime reaching out and setting me free
If you must know:
She feels like she’s never been touched by another.
As if her skin came alive, erect from my touch.
A flame ignited between each other.
If you must…
Her skin smells like pomegranate and the fruit of passion,
and feels like silk, the whisper of satin.
Her breasts, if you must know…
Feel like twenty-five, but perk like she’s a teen.
Her armpits taste of pretty girl and candy.
Her one desire? To be seen.
Truly seen.
You must die to know now, I expect
That her tummy hitches under my lips, and she moans when I kiss her hips.
She likes it when I bite her bones, but is it she or I that moans?
Go on and ask me about her cunt.
By now you must. You simply must.
Sage and lavender are her scent
until she’s met with trust.
With lust.
She tastes divine, if you must know.
Her drip is like a constant flow
Envy me indeed
Sinking into her is coated with need.
She feels like nineteen with the wisdom of thirty-one.
Enough for me to come undone.
You can dream and need, burn in your fire.
You can long and want, let her feed your desire.
You can watch her beauty and long for her flame.
But you’ll never hear her whisper your name.
You will never, ever know
Your name from her lips
whispered into your skin.
