Hands.

image

Firm hands
Firm hands that hold me down
Pull my hair and make me
will to yours.

Soft skin
As I burn and you blaze
No race or end insight
Just the thrill of the seen.

You like my voice
As I peak you peak
Like moths dangerously close to being crisp
We come together
And burn.

Liquid voice
As your touch mine and I yours
We sing a tune so intimate
No one could ignore…

Image via :

https://johnjzokovitch.com/category/poems/

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