A word. A breath. An intonation.

A similarity so slight most would barely rate it a thought or mention.

But for this woman, every hint, every likeness, every resemblance is a trigger, a spark, an enabler that leads me back to the voice unforgotten, to the accented utterance of my name by the man kneeling at my feet, his mouth pressed into the molten fire of my cunt, each ravenous flicker and devouring kiss driving my desire and body and the pleas falling from these lips to the edge, the brink, our precipice.

I wonder if you’ll ever know the depth, the breadth, the force of my yearning for your touch at first light.

Even as your hands rest on the triangle of light kissing the indentation at my waist, I wonder…

Would they hunger for the woman reflected, divided, yearning, out of reach?

Would they crave the riven being before you, the intensity, the duality, the sensual and the carnal, the appetites and their satiation, brought together as one by your passion and your touch?

On this cold and lonely morning,
only your touch can
save me.

My body aches for you, breaks
for you in untamed ecstasy
and trembling wonder.

If you spied me from your vantage, if you found me framed high in this picture window,
would you let your gaze linger, would you wonder lust for the taste, the ache,
the bend, the break, the sensation of my naked body pressed in tight?

Imagine.

Imagine taking a chance – risking it all – on a woman like me.

A woman whose desire for you burns through the years, reduces thousands of miles to inches with the sultry utterance of your name.

A woman whose delicate frame arcs as your breath meets her skin, whose intimate flesh gleams with sensual hunger and carnal yearning as you bring her to life each day with your dawn kiss.

A woman who aches for the man in his entirety, who longs for his curiosity, the mystery, the knowing, the complexity, the mess, their fusion and untamed, erotic depths.

I wonder if your imaginings would dare conjure such a creature, if they would scream for fantasy to give birth to a new reality, if they would allow time and space and fate and fortune to bend, break, meet.

If they could inspire your hands to reach out, to gift her with the touch you can no longer bear to keep to yourself.

And when you touch me, the pleasure ripples
across every inch of my body, marks my
sensual and wanton desire indelibly.

You make me writhe
and gleam with
illicit want.

I miss summer’s sun
drenched mornings, your hard
heat buried deep inside my ravenous flesh.