The Cartography of Touch

In the hush between heartbeats, where silence sears hot,

we shed more than clothes—we tear down every guarded thought.

Your fingers trace maps, not on paper but on skin,

drawing lines of fire, of need that blooms within.

Your gaze is a constellation—feral, unnamed, wild,

and I burn in its gravity, no longer meek or mild.

Your lips write forbidden verses along my throat:

Wet. Slow. Possessive. Each kiss—a wordless oath.

Skin melts beneath your tongue’s tender burn—

from navel to neck, every inch starts to yearn.

Your breath is a sermon trembling on my chest;

in its rhythm, I surrender—unashamed, undressed.

Just before dawn, the sheets damp with sin,

you move like prayer—rising from marrow to skin.

There are no words now, only moan and bite—

fierce poetry of nails carving through night.

In our love, there’s no shame, no polite disguise—

only bodies building temples where raw truth lies.

You look at me, and I open—bare, unmasked, wide-eyed—

in gasps, in cries, in waves crashing inside.

We are not just lovers—we are hunger and feast,

savage and sacred, a wild untamed beast.

You enter, I welcome—no hesitations, no-one guides,

and in the borderlands of pleasure and pain, our souls

map insights.