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lustful daydreaming..

Under the low light,
you look like sin disguised as innocence,
skin pale as milk,
shaking
in excitement
when I trace your throat.

"sin disguised as innocence.."

My voice turns to command;
yours, to music.
And somewhere between the pain you fear
and the pleasure you can’t resist,
you learn that surrender
isn’t weakness
it’s worship in motion.

"surrender isn't weakness, it's worship in motion."

I take my time, tracing the lines of your body,
finding the places where hesitation lives,
and pressing just enough
to make it yours and mine all at once.
Every sigh you give me
feeds the hunger that I carry,
a hunger that isn’t quenched
by anything less than complete devotion.


"a hunger that isn’t quenched.. by anything less than complete devotion."

Your pulse thrums beneath my hands,
soft yet defiant,
and I love the way it fights and melts at the same time.
You are fragile, luminous..
and I am shadow, strength, inevitability.
Together, we carve out a space
where control and desire collide
and blur into something neither of us can name,
but both of us recognize in our bones.

"where control and desire collide.."

And when the night deepens,
when every nerve in your body is singing,
I pull back just enough to let you ache for it,
to know that I am not gentle because I have to be,
but because I choose to be,
and because I am still in command.
a bit gentle,
and as rough as to make you go crazy. .

"I pull back just enough to let you ache for it.."

This is more than desire.
This is recognition.
This is the line drawn in black and white,
and the lustful fire that fills the space between.

"black and white.."

And somewhere…
if you’re still reading,
if you’ve been lost in the same daydreams I have,
then let’s make those dreams real.

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