Email Poem

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Poem

A feeling likened to shadowed depths,
Encircled by walls of icy whispers.
An emptiness, echoing in the chest—
In time, it transformed,
A beacon brightening a soul adrift.

Gentle fingertips trace languid paths,
Along honey-gold walls of desire,
Shaping destiny with a simple curve,
A breath, a pulse, a quiet unfolding.

Her skin, moonlit parchment warm to the touch,
My fingers, master brushstrokes
Finding the peak of rounded hills,
A teasing stroke of nature’s sealed springs.

Lips brush the dawn of silken peaks,
Soft whispers of touch,
Tiny sparks rushing to a distant crest,
Rippling through the sweet caramel bliss.

Like moonlight spilling over midnight’s edge,
Fingers trace paths known only to stars—
A song without sound hums in the silence.
Her body speaks,
In trembling shadows and light that flickers.

A soft touch glides,
Brushing against the heat,
Deeper now, where tremors stir beneath.
Each pulse a quiet plea.

Heart meets solace,
A slow descent into hidden fire,
Parting wetness like rain on thirsty earth,
A gentle press into the world’s quiet secret.

Dipping into the honeyed well,
Warmth wraps us in gold.
A trail of milk weaves through folds,
A steady drip of heat melting into her core.

Like wax from a slow-burning candle,
She softens, bends to each stroke.
A slow surrender to the flame's tender pull.
Desire overflows, the pot spills over.

A melody escapes, soft as dawn's first light.
Angels hum with each quiver of the sky.

A breath shudders,
Fingers trace fire down trembling skin—
The world clenches, then unfurls.
Bliss, endless, deep,
Pouring like light through the soul.

To the moon and beyond, we traveled,
A night to behold, eternal in its wake.

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