The place

Silky sand slipping through my fingertips,

like my inhibitions to give myself to you.

Watch the grains rain down catching the sunlight and glistening...

Like my gemstone eyes looking into yours...

Intimate traces of your soul, your dreams.

I’ve seen.

The wind carries those pieces of me.

Floating in the breeze.

Free.

The feeling I get when your breath flutters on my skin.

And caresses my thighs.

A slow burning flame flickering in the air (my desire, my longing, my silent pleas to feel you).

Hovering right above my flesh making me whimper your name.

Take me home.

The place where I breathe you in and I’m protected in your arms.

And I forget to be afraid.

Where I’m alive underneath your fingertips and your lips.

And my brain becomes quiet.

Passion is the fire that forges the sand into great pyramids.

I become the goddess from within this temple you built.