your tongue is impossibly soft wrapped around the silk and syllables of our mother tongue;
so too does the pale expanse of your skin run unblemished like the unceasing current of a river in spring,
beautiful as carelessly thrown precipitate coloured iridescent by the sun-
so too should the warm flush of life spread across your shoulders, your cheeks, your lips, all places i daren't indulge in even in my wildest fantasies-
the curve of your shoulder and the slim line of your waist might have been tailored, woven from storm clouds and snowfall and aurorae; only divinity could have threaded the infinitesimal delicately sharp gaze you cast upon my prostrate form--
you tasted like mulberry silk on my tongue as i dragged my attention across your lap, nose buried in fields of lavender and jasmine,
you slide fingers into my hair, press your knees into my ribs, i am holding an angel, and i have not known pleasure greater than this