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.. remembered." he announced, naming the poem."I closed my eyes, but my vision failed to dim. She was there, standing ... and I could not un-see her. Her eyes, so dark, her skin so pale, her hair ... gossamer. She was the very picture of beauty.She looked at me ... and I could not hide my faults. And yet, her eyes began to shine with the light of the stars. And she smiled. At me. For me. She loved me, and her open arms allowed me to love her back.Her touch, feather light, hovering, unsure, but there, made passion bloom, like cactus after a rain, explodes into life. And I was consumed as if by the stars in her eyes, As if they came close and burned me to nothingness.I thought of her tonight and ... remembered, the passion that changed my life forever. And if there never were another night like that, I should surely die a happy, happy man, floating through eternity in the stream of her love."He felt empty when he was done. He'd never written anything like this before, and he wasn't sure. At first it's only that - a static touch - but then it begins moving, flowing, tracing down your palm, leaving a trail of energy. By the time it's gone back up to your wrists, the tingling has already sunk underneath your skin, gnawing to your bones, seizing in its teeth. Fingers wrap wide around your arms in agonizing slowness, quickly followed by that paralyzing grip that has already caught every part of your arms, from below those fingers, in its electrifying shackles. It takes lead and by the time those gently caressing hands have taken a hold of your shoulders your entire upper torso has been seized by that deep buzz - breasts heaving with shallow, quick breaths, as the only thing able to leave your tensed throat is a slight sigh mixed in with a deep moan. Palms blaze down the side of your spine as the rushing blood is priming with that fiery touch every part of your body - from your now scorching-red cheeks, down your neck, like soft ethereal lips, sending jolt after jolt.
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