You light me up from vein to artery, from cheek to cell, from bone to spirit. Electric purple light filaments. Sometimes I wish I could stay shipwrecked on the sea of your bed for all eternity, weaving out of one another, breathing in your dust. The heat you radiate spins sugar waves that press me eyelids shut and purses my lips open, omitting mermaid moans and rocking my hips back and forth. I lose myself between waves of convulsive delight. My twin spirit, shadow lover, the percussion of your breath lulls me into bliss. You touch me like no one can. My mirror, my teacher, my eerie reflection, my echo through the canyon.
We have our own dimension.
Our own pocket of reality no one can take.
A jungle tree house of animal luxuriance, our pirate ship from outer space.
I have never wanted you to fill my throat so badly.