Soft, a familiar seat.
She walks in, fire in summer heat.
A pact we made, a whispered vow:
No touch, no kiss, just here and now.
We clink our glasses, amber bright,
And talk of dreams that fill the night.
Of love we sing, of *** we jest,
Avoiding truths we keep suppressed.
Once a month, this sweet escape,
A ritual, a carefully shaped
Perception, a joy we share.
Six days until she will be there.
The wait, a burn, a silent plea.
To want so much, and never be
Allowed to reach, to hold, to claim,
The bittersweet and silent game.
I value her, this bond so true,
But oh, the ache of wanting you.
Sep 7, 2025
Sep 7, 2025 at 6:52 PM UTC
Soft, a familiar seat.
She walks in, fire in summer heat.
A pact we made, a whispered vow:
No touch, no kiss, just here and now.
We clink our glasses, amber bright,
And talk of dreams that fill the night.
Of love we sing, of *** we jest,
Avoiding truths we keep suppressed.
Once a month, this sweet escape,
A ritual, a carefully shaped
Perception, a joy we share.
Six days until she will be there.
The wait, a burn, a silent plea.
To want so much, and never be
Allowed to reach, to hold, to claim,
The bittersweet and silent game.
I value her, this bond so true,
But oh, the ache of wanting you.
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