Your sigh—flute’s trill upon my waiting neck,
Awakens chords that hum beneath my breast.
Melodies where naked spirits—*****,
Notes wild and free, where passions seek their crest.
Each touch, a whole note, bodies, andante, coalesce,
A prelude to a symphony of our scents,
Where songs of pleasure swell, we gently press,
Our emotions we softly bare—no consent.
Your skin, a sun-warmed drum—hands descend,
We resonate in rhythms—smooth and deep.
Exploring with you, lost in sweet desires, ageless spent.
I taste the salt where gentle currents seek sleep.
Our inner music flows, a tide without a name,
In Gaia's Soothing Haven, our bodies, unashamed.
