There's something so appealing about tearing clothes off,
like they are burning just to be on your skin.
About catching your breath,
as if only just remembering you need to breathe to survive.
About trailing a neck with kisses.
Breathing in another persons scent.
There's a reason they call it heat of the moment.
Because in that moment;
It's as if your veins have fire pumping through them,
and the person on top of you is the only one alive who could put it out.
YOU ARE READING
Results of a Restless Mind
PoetryA book of poems created by a sleepless mind and an open heart "I'm sorry that my heartbeat is louder than my thoughts." Completed 11/8/20
