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I want to sink And lose myself 600 ways in you Losing myself in how you feel, How you smell. A softness that doesn't fray Between the heat Shared between you and me, It doesn't wrinkle. It doesn't crease. It's not a traumatic response From any part of your or my journey. You breathe against me The kind of comfort that trust Cannot put into words. Unrushed. Patient. The way home should feel. Before true happiness, I stretch and unwind In your quiet Twisting and turning, My face pressed into how Warm you are. When I lay on you, I don't want to get up. I want to lay here and dream, Far from the suffocation That exists away from you. No matter how rough I am, Compared to your softness This goes beyond material reality Where hands and feet Don't have to beg for rest. They just are. There are no wrinkles in how you love, In the way you unfold and spread yourself. Eventually, Love doesn’t stay young forever. It matures in its openness. In this, there is surrender. I am consumed in you No longer twisting, No longer turning, But at peace. Whether I am closing my eyes Or opening them. I am glad that you're here
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Mar 1, 2025
Mar 1, 2025 at 9:05 PM UTC
Egyptian Cotton
I want to sink And lose myself 600 ways in you Losing myself in how you feel, How you smell. A softness that doesn't fray Between the heat Shared between you and me, It doesn't wrinkle. It doesn't crease. It's not a traumatic response From any part of your or my journey. You breathe against me The kind of comfort that trust Cannot put into words. Unrushed. Patient. The way home should feel. Before true happiness, I stretch and unwind In your quiet Twisting and turning, My face pressed into how Warm you are. When I lay on you, I don't want to get up. I want to lay here and dream, Far from the suffocation That exists away from you. No matter how rough I am, Compared to your softness This goes beyond material reality Where hands and feet Don't have to beg for rest. They just are. There are no wrinkles in how you love, In the way you unfold and spread yourself. Eventually, Love doesn’t stay young forever. It matures in its openness. In this, there is surrender. I am consumed in you No longer twisting, No longer turning, But at peace. Whether I am closing my eyes Or opening them. I am glad that you're here
kewayne-wadley
Written by
Mar 1, 2025
Mar 1, 2025 at 9:05 PM UTC
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