Shadows and Silk

Bathe me in your purple haze,

a twilight that crowns my skin,

a declaration of royalty

etched in the way your gaze

drips onto me like molten gold.

Cover me in your evidence—

fingerprints like constellations,

bruised galaxies blooming under your touch,

each mark a whisper to the world

that I am yours.

Stroke the delicate edges of my curiosity,

unfold me,

unravel me,

until the shadows we hide in

become part of your tapestry.

Taste of my nectar, warm and wild,

the sweetness that only you unlock,

a sacred offering

held only in the heat of your palms.

Feed me your desire,

spoon it into my trembling mouth,

let it coat my tongue and stick to my ribs.

Cloud my vision,

strip me of my senses

until only your scent remains—

a heady wine I am helpless to deny.

Fill me,

again and again,

until the room echoes

with a language only our bodies speak,

until my voice is your prayer,

my whispers your altar,

and the night a cathedral

that bends to the hymn of your name.

Fulfill me,

stretch me past longing,

into a place where ache

becomes communion.

Kiss me where the light doesn’t reach,

claim me

in the places no one else sees—

a quiet possession,

your hands the thieves of my resistance.

Mark me,

bruise me in worship,

consume me with the kind of hunger

that leaves nothing untouched.

And when dawn breaks,

let the sunrise marvel at us,

two bodies caught in the ruins of surrender,

still trembling,

still aching,

still yours.