HiveComb

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That sensation my body feels
every time you brush my skin,
is the fire that fuels the moment,
is the echo of a sweet role.
That desire that burns and blossoms,
in a touch, in a fleeting gesture,
is the promise that never wavers,
a heartbeat that tastes like peace.
That sensation in every heartbeat,
transforms the simple into a spring,
and so, in your arms, I feel loved,
in this embrace that tastes like immortality.
That soft breeze that caresses
my whole being, deep and sincere,
guides me between shadows and lights,
painting a light dream in the air.
That feeling you provoke
under my skin is called love,
a whisper that springs from my chest,
like a river flowing in its ardour.