Ensnared by your wild, begging eyes, in a vanilla-scented trance, lids gentle, I—numb—choose captivity, and bathe in their warm blue.
I navigate your curves by smell and taste—
slow—
from your marble neck, sculpted for my grip, hips fertile like volcanic soil, down to the shores of your ankles.
I read your skin in Braille, and you scribe red secrets on my back.
Timeless beauty— a velvet pillow smothering the will to be free.