Touch

Funny how a glance can be enough
To ignite the heart, sets it running
At a pace of a million miles an hour.
Yet it is the touch that sets the body
On fire…every little brush as light
As a dove is enough to make my body
Cry out ‘This lust, this, is what I love!’

While his eyes may make me warm, those
Absolutely delicious whirlpools
Of molten chocolate that see past the facade
Of pretence and through to my soul, while those
Make me warm they are not the same as his embrace.
Strongly tender arms, masculinity hidden beneath the
Compassion, his grip makes my breath hitch in my
Throat, it makes my world start to shrink, nothing
But feeling, nothing but feeling.

His little quirks and cheeky jokes may make
My heart laugh, lightening any dark mood to a point
Where it becomes irrelevant, yet it is nowhere near
As potent a catalyst for my desire as his cheek
Against mine, until the contact of warmth against
Willingness causes a waterfall that cascades in
Shimmering love through my soul.

Is it possible to love someone because of their touch?
A gentle, tender feathery tickle is enough to make
Knees weak and hearts melt, I want to feel the
Lightning again, feel the thunder of my lust pounding
Heart.

Touch me, please?

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