Touch

Touch has a memory.
~ John Keats

The memory of your touch lingers, the softness of your skin, the gentleness of your touch as your fingers traced the curves of my body, the roundness of your nails causing shivers to run through me, goosebumps forming wherever you have been.

The warmth of your breath against naked skin, the coolness of your tongue as it trails, following the path that your fingers traced only moments before.

You take me to the moment where I feel nothing but your mouth on my skin.   I see nothing but you.  I feel nothing but you.  I hear nothing but the sound of you calling my name, whispering gently, begging and pleading.

Touch has a memory.