The savage in you

Like to tickle me

To death – you

Relish seeing me squirm

When your hands start sneaking slowly

D

O

W

N

My arms, my waist

Then up the sides of my breasts

Where your fingers deftly move

Like a pianist’s hands on the keys

Or a wolf’s claws on its prey.

 

July 5, 2000

(Written 17 years ago when love meant something totally different. Sigh.) 

 

Daily Prompt: Savage