So little so much
Brief brush of fingers
That soft touch
Heat that lingers

“Mine” she could swear she heard
Her heart for a moment stands still
With that whispered word
A devilishly divine thrill

Hint of Everything
In a gentle brush
Makes her soul sing
Blood starts to rush

Thoughts, want, and need, a ravenous desire
Taking Form
Capricious Fire
Fanciful Storm

Growing tempest of lust
A she devil of need
Feed soon she must
Dances in her eyes, take heed

Growing lustful state
Hunger and thirst, in wicked measure
She wants to sate
With pain and pleasure

~Wes Noneya