• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 05
Image by


This close, all I can see
is soft, innocuous,
round and gentle,
inviting touch,
begging the caress,
the long stroke,
the brush and tickle
of a slow
lover’s hand.

But I can feel the heat
of your breath
against my skin,
strong as the promise
of a white hot forge
ready to reshape me
on the anvil of desire.

And I am held here
and suspended,
soft and loose,
unresisting in the flux
of your golden stare.