She moves on the bed in longing,
for a hand to hold,
for a sunflower on her silken fold,
that adorns the space between her thighs,
damp with sacred elixir,
throbbing louder than a heart on a drug high,
her lips are wet, her throat is dry,
she is hungry!
In the room where her vulnerability resides,
all she can do is lick her sighs,
tender breasts, slow heavy breaths,
her body is enslaved by the residual limerence of the unplanned moments,
that surpassed the walls of her garden.
Her fantasies, pleasures, hurt and cries,
are now seeping out, lingering on her sweet heated skin,
she lies naked in the refuge of her courtyard and wonders,
can she quench her thirst, smother the intoxication,
from the fire sparked by a touch,
that was not hers.
The cover photo was taken in Bosnia and Herzegovina.