La Petite Mort

Amber flares ignite my eyes
Inside your aura, dreams alive

Heaven trembles in the palm of your hand
My body soothes you like softened sand

Shedding silk, my slender frame unwrapped
Reveals the hourglass therein trapped

Ripened flesh of fresh sweet peach
Honeyed split within your reach

Soaked wet cherry wild broken free
Your tongue divides the core of me

Soft porcelain perfection pressing to your lips
As oceans tide, pull and rise, raise me by my hips

Desire burns, all bracken brush, my forest set ablaze
As gasps of pleasure come a rush to flood my empty days

Your mouth consumes me, makes your claim
If you're the match, then I'm the flame

Xo