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Hold me before we succumb to this rush,to this electricity where pressure alwaysquickens in breathless kneading and friction,steady your fluttering pulse with mine,slow this reckless dance down and listen closely.Voices will untether to speak from everywhere,from our curves, planes, and pores,asking if I’ve discovered you yet,if I will melt into your flowing riversthat I feel but do not yet see, if I’ll tell you what I couldn’t before.I cannot call you mythical, the fabric of a muse can be too easily torn and knottedinto a stranger of its former self.I must have flesh and bone,the tangible taking that does not consume from afar,but so close that your touch is both fire isveçbahis and vapor, torching my atmosphere before I can even beg you to.I want your hands to glidewith pure fluid purpose,to remind me why even a hint of your presence stirs a cravingto be sheathed inside of you.Its the most ancient mark to make,the only true surrender, the deepest binding we can know.Hold me before we succumb to this rush,to the galaxies swirling in your eyes,once so distant and still,ready to unfold in supernovas,slow this orbit down and listen closely.Because the darkness between us is fragile,rich with honey and sound almost suspended,skin bathed in amber candlelight flickering,waiting isveçbahis giriş to explode across lonely skies,dripping horizons and gardens.Your body is calling out to me,cells imparting all secret wants,from the softest murmur to the most unstoppable frenzy, to every pause in between that ripples through the airto ask me to tell you what I never could before.I answer by confessing that you are not a muse,but something far more thana shimmer to fixate on from afar.You consume until a core encloses,an ancient ceremony sealed to contain our explosions.Answering all that I’ve neverasked of you before.Hold me as we descend into ourselves afterwards,be the gravity isveçbahis yeni giriş leading me back into softened limbs,burrowed into any hollow calling out to us,listen closely and I’ll tell you the entire story,tangle into your unfinished chapters. Because I’ve never been so intoxicated with such sudden familiarity,intimate and nearly motionless,like embers in the darkest hearth,the sparks between the storms.For all the beauty that such bursts illuminate throughout you,as much as they weave us together,they are never meant to last.But even the shadows left in our wakeare still tinged with light,framed with glows no other can unmake,no one can claim the trellis suspending these sweet fruits.The darkness between us is fragile,beautiful as pulses untether and swimback down to this cooling atmosphere,as you call out to me and promise to listen closely when I tell youeverything I could never say before.