Under the Crescent Moon

Self-love. (With Audio)

Rated MA for Mature Adults 21+ years of age due to the sexual nature of the content.

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Stammering out of my bed

A nightmare left adorning my head

I see her

I smell her

She is effervescent in the dim light

A creature only met in the night

Her crudely swept curls

My obsession unfurls

The curves, an angel of death

Building worlds in the exhale of breath

A cool, soft finger grazing her breast

And I long deeply to explore the peaks of her chest

She teases me with a turn in the mirror

Hidden, and yet still very much exposed

We stand, almost daring one another

For tonight, her lover

As she captures my gaze

I send one delicate hand to cup her face

Soft skin, that of pure sin

Awakens in me, a carnal craze

I take her to the window

For she loves the exposure

After years together

This, I know, my composure

I touch her

I taste her

On my tongue

Hands cascading in patterns of worship under the night-born sun

Moon casting shadows where I long to cast her undone

“Look up,” I tell her, as I plunge my hands down to her waist

My fingers, soaking themselves in her taste

Showering her in adoration with haste

Playing notes inside her, I’ve honed with grace

Her legs, begging to lose their place

I strum her

I watch her

And so do they

The millions of lights casting brilliant starbursts in the pane

Her nectar coating my skin

As she cries out again, and again

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