I must remain sensitive to her secret dormant needs. Combined with her desires, gentle hands mutually leads. It's always about what she requires. Leading her to the promise land where the fruit is ready to eat. The dark purple grapes are bittersweet. Only true lovers can taste the delectable sweetness. Once applied to the tongue, the appetite releases. Particles that spread flavors all through. The body cavity, nourishing inside with a healthy display of vigor on the outside. Sensations of happiness roams throughout. Sometimes it hovers overhead. Oftentimes it rocks to sleep, beautiful memories that linger. Upon the mind as it drifts through a romantic timeline. Connecting hearts together. Convincing the souls that there is much more pleasure. Sensitive to her needs. Facing her simultaneously, we breathe. New beginnings. Our love is always winning. We're at the starting point of the race, the starting pistol sounds, we do not hesitate. As we together attached from the hips, it's imaginary, cross the finishing line. The trophy of love calculates our time. Sensitive to her needs.
© Daniel Mason