There is something about the way you try to behave when you are holding me.
You pull my shirt down over my stomach
....and trace my hip bones so softly, all the wine glasses shatter.
You pull my hair out of my face, away from my neck,
And go in for the ****.
Kissing me into a secret heaven I never heard of in church. You're one sin I don't want to be saved from.

And I didnt believe in God until I felt your hands on my skin. Because nothing that perfect came from a drunken party accident.

Accident.

As if you could be anything other than deliberate.  Anything other than precise.  You take what you want, but share it with me until I'm far past breathless.

You fill up all my empty spaces, be it in my chest, my mind, or the prized gap between my thighs.
The bed sheets are jealous of how warm you keep me.