Thoughts awry under misconception,
allowing those not to take over.
As if to take hold of the reigns,
on your own uncertainty.

Transfixed by your touch,
Causing chills that crave for more.
Allowing breath to flow effortlessly,
Intensifying with each exhale.
Letting moans trace my lips with bursts of pleasure.
Moves becoming voluntary and obedient,
Embracing passion, grasping for more, anticipating ******.

Searching for silence.
The crackle of flame withering, dissipating the warmth,
Accentuating apprehension within a destressed mind.
How does one proceed knowing their existence is no more?
No one knows.
One may hope for rapture, devotion and calm,
But the last ember fades, and one knows not what to do.

The cold stone his heart,
Son of the moon lay motionless.
As the cold overwhelms,
The stone cracks.

Acknowledge thoughts amiss,
That bloom on broken paths,
Across the sea of desolate truth,
Where you wait for rapture.

Petals perch perfectly in pairs,
As smooth as silk,
As pure as passion,
And as serene as the sea.