I crave committed skin.
Pale, pink tones of a fragile heart.
Silky strands that tantalise.
A forest of words - thoughts,
forcing careful continuation
of forward movement.
Actions.
Soft, subtle reassurances
given under pressure,
refusing to provide more
until¦
Making absolutely sure
when the two surfaces
eventually meet -
rub together¦
no other skin will suit.
