My heart beats fast,
My breathing is labored,
The taste lingers on my tongue.
The air is cold,
But the heat in unbearable,
And its pools against my skin.
The work is quick,
For Its self inflicted,
The fever of my skin.
My heart is erratic,
With movements to match,
I find pleasure in my own company.
I must work quick,
the heat is burning,
And I long for what’s to come.
So my fingers move faster,
and I finish the job.
I dive into the what’s left,
with two fingers,
Slowly,
I devour the taste,
And moan out in delight.
Licking off the essence,
That remain upon my skin.
Its perfect.
Its sweet, but tart,
And lingers in my mouth.
Lemons? Limes? Strawberries?
I cannot decide the flavour.
It tastes so good I cannot resist
Going back for more.
I must stop myself,
From going to far.
As this is how it started before.
My breathing is labored,
As I savour another taste.
You can never have enough of a good thing,
But I must be careful not to start again.