Wearing his perfume
Manoeuvring a comfort zone
Warming up that cuppa
I move into worshippers zone
His scent lingers
His words fumble
His shirt taunts me
Of that night
Of that minute
I tasted his sweat
Like a drop of ecstasy
Yes I am taunted
His soft finger caress me
The distance is unbearable
I could hear his heartbeat
His musky undertones
Cracking a burning desire
His eyes drawing me
Like my skin was his canvas
It is like Deja Vu
His grip grows stronger
My body fonder
Oh my, if he could read me
He wouldn’t leave
Or would he?
And the questions
Yes self loath
Comes running shortly
I was so perfect
In his eyes
In his embrace
Just short of a lustful poetry
Yes perfect
Enthralling and drowning
His flames, my nuances
Swirl of passion
Dance of desires
Nonetheless he left
Damn you Vacuum!
Fancy much 