Fascination

I’m fascinated by the way you stare at me. You devour souls. You licked the layers off my soul and deep fried them like chicken. Damn, you make me tremble. Last time I tasted you, your layers, the crevasses between you and your confidence, I lost myself in other dimensions. Felt you like an exploration. Traversed your body like an expedition, with my hands, my lips, my soul. I roamed all of you. Tasted every inch and every corner. In you, around you, on you. With the lights on or off. I’ve known you. Dug into your body like archaeology, charted your spots like astronomy, this was always a journey. How you would look at me possessed. I’m fascinated by your arousal, by your scent, by your taste. The way your breast would stare at me when we undressed. Under moonlight. By the river. Howling like a pack of wolves. Savage, yet sophisticated. With you I knew the tempo of the Earth. I knew your vibrations, I knew your momentum. I knew the shift of the Universe from your bites on my lip as I … and we… and you… that’s what I knew like breathing. Thats what I knew like first nature. Your body was a temple that I was baptized in, baptism by water and fire. You were the cosmological love of my life. Drenched in sweat from romantic nights after dates, your thighs like Oak trees on either side of my head. Your hands through the shrubbery of my hair, nails digging through the roots. I learned to dive underwater for you. I learned to hold my breath for you. And the arch of your back, the geometries of your flexibility. Something like a dream. I’m fascinated by you. By all of you.

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