old piano, french vanilla and feathers

inside this place you have taken me to
it is quiet but for the sound of rain, and a piano;
your touch is light,
your hand uncertainly sure,
your lips and tongue starved for skin cells and sighing.

our kisses never seem to end,
still too brief to remember–
until the next time that we lose maintenance of passion
and answer the craving to taste each other’s words.

when you listen to music,
i hope you taste me in the words you sing.

when you dance,
i want to be the air around you– the music inside of you,
the rush in your veins;
but i wish to be the place
you fade into as you move, and envelop you.

inside this place you have taken me into,
you taste like discovery;
and i am greedy with dipping my tongue.

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