Out their line of sight,
the slight
and brushing palm
stand my hairs on end,
as they stretch
and bite
at your fingertips,
I fight
the growing tide
and hide
beneath a blushing skin,
to turn and see your glinting eye,
the sly,
enticing ice of blue
that beckons me upstairs
where you,
adorned with silk desire,
await the spark to burn your fire.


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