Christian

Touching your curls and rose petals float from my fingertips.
My lips on your neck turn to blooms of jasmine.
My tongue on your skin suddenly armored in fresh orange zest.
Running along your arms, each scar,
The scent of warm vanilla under my touch.
The sweat on your neck is sweet on my lips.
Your cinnamon moans radiate an orange glow.
Spinning and wrapping us like a maypole in its tendrils.
Unconsciously, your fingers chase the ghost of my kiss.
Triggering, if just a moment, the whisper of my lips again.
Lost in the muchness of you.
Losing yourself in me.
We are worlds away.