redwinterroses

I love the way you smell. Clean like the sea and the wind that blows down from the hills. I want to inhale you fully and travel over your body with my nose. You are sweet like the sea spray and the jasmine that grows in gardens far from here. I like to bury my face in your soft belly. Taking you in. Enveloping my spirit in your essence. I love to lie there with my cheek pressed into that sanctuary with your hands in my hair. Feeling. Searching for a place to hide from yourself and the world outside. I like to lie under you in such a way that I am cradled by one of your arms, while your other hand travels the length of me, slowly and deliberately. Spending hours warming me like this, never growing tired. Just relax, you say. I let go under the spell that you have over me. I could float on this tranquil sea under the moon and forget everything I thought I knew about myself. Your eyes that dance in sea-blue flames of passion, drinking in the soft iridescent pearl of my skin, burning beneath your cool touch and shining in the candle light. That subtle glow that casts a spell over us and adds to the trance we find ourselves in. In silence, just gazing at each other. The heat of your body floods my senses and all of me is laid open to you like the fullest flower a rose or a dahlia in bloom. I love when we can not help but touch each other. When it is something in the blood, something in the bone, two parts of a whole made into something larger. I try to fathom just what it is you do to me. You just smile and I am lost in those full perfect lips that I long to touch. My finger tips, my burning cheeks, my trembling heart, cry out for that caress that embrace. Because somehow I feel more love or something trying to get in inside me and this was never there before and now here it is and I want it to keep pushing until somehow entered and fragmented your essence knows me like no other and I cant escape it. Until I have to let myself be known, entered, penetrated, fragile, female. Until there is no way to keep you out, no way to keep you at bay or from reading something core about myself. In Yoga they call this the subtle body. All that is ethereal. You can find this, and you find it through my skin. My heart. My very thoughts wandering in the abyss of here. I love when you hold my wrists back exerting a gentle pressure. Just enough to tell me that I am yours and yours alone. Not for domination and submission, but for equality. For the feminine, made flesh and virtuous. When you are so close to me, your hands tracing the curves of my hips. I hold my breath. Waiting. Your whispers leave tracks on my skin, subtle heat. The faint scent of cinnamon lingers over the intoxicating smell of the moon and stars between us. I am the universe and you are the creator of life. Our love surrounds us in the swirling darkness. And I am breathingyou.