The current travels
from the point of my stilettos
and vibrates to the peak of my knee,
which crawls to the valley
of my curved hips.
There is pressure that builds
between my thighs
that creates
a lust that pours…
a chemistry
sinking
into my pores
as I…
Drown.
With A sway and a saunter…
A look that wanders…
The fear that you will lean a little closer.
Hands that glide without thought or morale…
Am I living in the past or creating a new tale?
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