Be the warmth, be the breath, be the kiss on my soft lips, be the mouth swallowing my rapture, feeding from this shiny bliss.

Be the touch, be the hands, be the fingers weaving through these tresses, be the body I reach out for, the flesh pressed against my suppleness.

Be the smoke, the flame, the fire, be possession and surrender, be the one who gives and takes with softness, lightness, with hard, deep, growling intent.

Be the brave, the unafraid, the being you yearn and need to be, the easy and the intricate, the erotic and the carnal, be that man with me.

Be my junk, be my jones, be my everlasting addiction, the obsession that shatters, slays, destroys me, the passion that revives, refines, perfects.

Be the throb, the ache, the pain, be the cure, the panacea, be my relief, be my remedy, be my medicine.

And I’ll be yours.