Moist In The Middle

The wind plays softly on my skin, A whisper stirring deep within, Moist in the middle where passion grows, Where silence breaks and longing flows. The world is warm, a heavy breath, And I, a bloom on the edge of death, Panting softly in the night's embrace, The meaty pull of time and space. The wind, it lifts, it sways, it sings, A song of heat and fleeting things. Moist in the middle, where love ignites, A flame that burns through shadowed nights. Panties cling like a second skin, And all the universe spins within. Warm and tender, close and true, The world is vast, yet centered in you.