How does it feel?

She.
Her touch is silk blanketed by a brown frame that melts fear.
Every-time she holds my chin and tilt to level my eyes with hers,
It gives me chance to stare and drown into her deep hazel eyes.
And that in the moment where she closes our tongue's gap,
It is gentle and genuine.

My Exception.

He.
His sudden hugs that reddens my pale cheeks,
as he whisper ruggedly on my ear that tenses my stomach,
he promise me his love today and tomorrow until days and nights collapse.
I know the stress in his voice in every word.
He is mine.

My half.

She.
Her obsidian hair that is tied in messy bun,
loose hair droops to her face around her cheeks that makes her inhale broadly,
as she blows it away in a sigh that is soft and slow,
hearing it calms like a breeze that takes a dandelion flying through the valley.
Peaceful.

My comfort.

He.
His mouth in the afternoon that taste blood and smoke.
It drifts me afloat in the midst of land and sky,
Leaving me gasping foe air and ground to hold onto.
His lips wreath when he pulls away as I compose myself.
He now stares at me with quenched thirst in his eyes.
Addiction.

My desire.

She.
Her freckles that dance around her nose when she smile,
I know they're the bright constellation in the night sky.
I trace them with my fingers while I veil my face blank to cover
the loud heaves of my chest. I hold my breath.
It draws me near her that makes her lips quiver. She kisses my forehead.
Light.

My sanity.

He.
His cross tattoo across his chest that rise and fall when I'm asleep
on top of him, my face buried on his neck while my palm rest open against
his heart. Beating and pounding in sync with mine.
It merges our body into one.
Warm and safe.

My home.