Flames surround my skin
not from wood
but from your nearly touch.
Don’t want to see,
just fell,
just dream,
just expect.
Close my eyes and feel your fingers
undressing me
slowly as a soft breeze.
Touch,
skin,
lips,
kiss
hug.
Sweet torture,
sweet pain,
wake in flames
embrace passion
and die of pleasure
by your hands
©Graça Costa
imagem da web
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