Your hands caress my skin as if I am the most delicate of flowers,
and your mouth retrieves the nectar from within.
You consistently lock eyes with me and express your love so willingly.
That you are so determined to give sweet love to me.
That you promise to do what God intended passionately.
And with that, my temple is yours.
Every motion, every ****** validates this for me.
The rhythm we create arouses me.
You leave marks on the most obvious of places so the world knows you've explored my canvas like Columbus.
Navigating your way from my neck to my inner thigh.
Moments so divine that I still get chills like the coldest day of winter simply thinking of the time we've shared.
And for some reason, you hold my body like you'll never see me again.
Maybe because it's clear that there's someone else.
I know this because at the break of dawn, the only thing I feel with my eyes closed and my naked body buried underneath these sheets with your presence all over me is the warmth of your body disappearing.
Maybe it isn't love. I'll assume that it was never meant to be.
Even with the sweet nothings whispered in my ear and
the vivid memories of you fondling me.
Every single time, you quietly say that you have to go, apologize for the mess you made and you're sorry about leaving.
The ****** escapade you were dying to experience doesn't suffice.
The look in your eyes says enough.
My body you so desperately wanted to see has done no justice if you leave when the sun begins to rise.
I wonder when I will hear the creak from my bedroom door once more, and your heavy footsteps going across my floor.
I wonder if you'll be reminded of how vacant this space has been without you, and how much my body yearns for more rounds with yours.
Sure enough, the next night you realize it was time to start over.
Time to give you exactly what you need.
I guess I confused lust with love making.
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