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I walk with the scent of you drifting like a ghost across my skin,Stepping uncertainly
As though in a dream.
This delightful departure from my everyday
Could be no more than a passing anomaly.
... that’s ok.
Through closed eyes the faint rasping of check against neck,
The slip of skin on skin,
The heat...
All instinctive we reach
And make no promises.
But I will smoulder with this hunger you have sired in me
And long for the caress of silk on my wrists.
© mjc 01 August 2013
