Her Whims

It is moments like this which remind me
I am alive
Her hair falls into my face
Her sweet vanilla breath on my cheek
I am subject to her whims
to the slow teasing of her exploratory hands
to the slow pleasing of her skillful fingers
She traces my every line
caressing touching knowing
every inch of me
I am the map
She already knows the key
choosing to take the scenic view
as she searches for her way home.

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