You don't make many noises,
But God, when you do,
I lose my mind just a little bit.

If my principles
die,
It has to be
with
me,
Never before me.

Late in the night
Or early morning,
I long for your hands on me;
To feel the flutter
Of your eyelashes
As you kiss and bite
Down the skin of my neck,
Then *******, then stomach.
It is a curse to lust
After you so much,
To feel the echo
Of your fingers inside me.
My body responds
To the thought of you now.
I am burning up,
Set alight by you,
Your breath turning me to cinder.