Mental Intimacy

His mind is more moving than any touch I can feel

It wasnt like sex...

Rather like two artists collaborating in poetry to creat a memorable masterpiece.

It wasnt even like making love...

Pieces of art

Working,

Weaving,

Intertwinning...

Untill they became one.

The way he touched me made me feel as though I was a virgin again.

His mind held out the difibulator to me heart,

So that I could let a higher thought process begin.

- I let him in.

I showed my intimacy by peeling back my layers..

One..

After the other..

Untill I revieled the pollen of my soul.

Goosepimples reflected the intense metal state that I was in...

He stimulated my mind past exhaustion,

Untill I blossomed;

As beautiful and deeply,

As a crimson red rose.

We didnt have to touch,

No words did we have to speak...

The elevation of stimulation that my mind was subjected too..

Was pure inspiration.

As the heat from inside of me,

Calmed the passion inside the palms of his hands.

As he, gently caressed the silky skin of sin,

Untill his breath released the taste of mental exctasy.

He brought my heart to a pace it had never skipped to.

He has me backwards,

Doing somersaults with words,

As he ejaculated mental streams of steam..

From out of him...

And into me.

My tounge sored nake..to a level of assention it had never reached before!

He had me there-

Willing to allow any and all inhabitions to free themselves from my mind...

So that I could translate this metaphorical state.

As my mind was subjected to a paradox of thoughts.

It was like falling in love all over again,

He moved me in a way I had never felt,

By the words.. we didnt have to speak.

But- mental intimacy takes its time,

And I am showing myself...

One petal at a time