Her Magnetic Field

Her hands tunnel a roseate orifice,
unexpected and funnelling temptation;
drawing me to enter her plastic, elastic mind
and her soft-downed corporeal self, damp with love.
Gentle suction pulls my malleable, pallid shadow-soul
into her pastel-sexed world where new ideas form
and proliferate. I am putty in her nivea'd hands.
Pretty soon we slip together, joined,
fingers entwined. No-one may tell
our narratives apart, one
from the other.