My hand
Unwashed
On your face
Through your hair
Into the sea that is touch
I am blind by choice
(Explain)
Feeling is the nearest thing to
Ecstacy
And seeing steals my soul in tiny
Fragments
Judgement, pallor, age.
(Instead)
My hand creates your body
Lines drawn in
Snow
Water is magic
Pleasure the fifth sense
Your breath on my
Breast
The temptation of
Temptation
My orgasm is papyrus
Soaked in vinegar
Contentment a blank slate
