AROUSE in Five WORDS, Part 7 (no links, pics, gifs, or arguments!)

every time you touch me,
it’s a sudden, soft sacrament,
a ritual with shuddering breath.

your fingers are an intervention,
your lips like inpatient treatment.

i still find myself feening,
licking up the beading escape,
dribbling from under your ear.
 
she knows I’m a try-hard
she knows about my desperation,

about the journey for approval,
about the mouth wide open.

she knows it’s about trust
she knows her cumming epilepsy.
 
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