I forget not the gleam;
the gliding beam warping around her bare shape.
The mysteries awaiting to be explored;
adventures to be unraveled on her scape.
In the muffled light from the windows,
she stood like the work of a mad artist;
and literature of an impeccable juggler of metaphors.
I forget not the tender warmth;
under the open sky, on a vulnerable me,
her skin grew like tides do on the shores.
I forget not, the feeling, as she came over to me under the sheets
like dark clouds over a burnt terrain;
the cracks in me only yearning for the pour.
I forget not the scent; a petrichor of sorts;
the touch of her hide corrupting me into a greed of wanting more.
I forget not the afternoons spent in her arms;
that blur down to a shade of orange with which I paint my nights.
I forget not the beguile breasts; her mellow feet, invasive thighs
and other such luring sights.
A new flavour fills me every time
I helplessly obsess over that every detail still alive in me.
And I forget not how she caged me in herself forever
and at the same time set me free…
words by Deven
artwork by @EroticWaterColor