- Silk Taut, Velvet Obeys
- Circling Together
- Rising Tide
You speak of water
like it knows me
like it tastes me,
slips along my skin,
presses warm
and urgent
against the curve of me,
buoying me,
pulling me under
so I shiver,
and ache
for its return.
I step in slowly,
letting the edge tease me,
letting the heat of it
curl between my thighs,
curl through me
before I surrender
to its pull,
to the slick hunger
that drags me deeper.
Some things aren’t meant
to be held.
Some things move
because they want,
because they hunger
slipping through fingers
to find the shape
they’ve always desired,
pressing wet
and alive
against me.
And still
I reach,
press against the tide,
feeling it spill over me,
press into me,
claim me in its rhythm,
drag me wide,
shiver under its touch,
moist,
aching
desperate for every wave
that wants me
as much as I want it.
Not drowning.
Not diving.
Just letting the water
slide over me,
lick me,
slick me open,
fill me,
pull me,
spill me,
over,
over,
wide,
surrendered,
wet,
tide,
nothing
but yours.
