To settle into your arms and the comfort that awaits . . . my fantasy, my dream. The misunderstanding of outside forces will not dampen this spirit moved into the realm of virtue's splendors. The approach of ease, the delight of the anticipation, will only but for this one make the whole.
The moans that leave lips wanting, the gasps that turn to surmounting passions. I feel the sight and hear the image so boldly passing before all my senses . . . I am alive in this love. You, the pulse that sets my beat; you, the one that collects my sorrows and lays them to rest . . . as much as I may often resist.
Together on our pillow we make our cloud. Inebriated in the fluids of our supple emotions, we join. Instincts abound in predatory eclipses wanted for the pleasures of two. We are alive in this love. We are love. We love. We . . . no longer you and I.
Written By Pete Andrus
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