|picture source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/375909900128906809/|
In the sun or under the moon, I care not what graces the skies
when my hands relish the heat of your burning skin,
before me a sculpture of muscle, flexed and primed
for me to move across the spectrum of senses with,
to find the slow, deep release of the energy
that keeps me alive and takes my breath
so I may die… again.