Nocturne

It is in the nocturne’s quiet, in its deepest, darkest shadows, that I feel you, that I sense you near, that I crave your approach, surrender willingly to your presence, to the urgency of your lust as you weave your fingers through these tousled curls and your kiss finds the perfumed arc of my neck, as your mouth pressed against my ear hotly whispers I am yours alone to keep and take, as your hands glide along my curves, as they bend me forward at the waist, as they ease me wide apart, your gaze transfixed by the aching gleam between my thighs, my body pushing back to meet you, silently pleading for the carnal, the sensual, the intensity promised in your touch, silently pleading for its annihilation, its rebirth at your hand and your hard, insatiable flesh.