Red is the colour…
The slow reveal, not by your hand, but mine. A gentle caress, not by a breeze, but by my breath. Your back exposed, no hiding now. Hands cannot cover, reach. Keep them right there, yes. No hands needed, except mine.
I can spend hours on your skin, watching it move, change, ripple, contract, tell stories, sing songs. It’s like an open book, even more so than your face. The more I reveal, the more it shows. And as my fingers slide or tear that dress away, who knows, perhaps I’ll see your defenses crumble.
Touched or untouched, I’ll mark you, gently or violently, and looking closely, watch your skin change, betray, give away all that you so carefully hide from the world, but cannot hide from my eyes. As if tuning you, carefully, or roughly, to my private scale. All mine.
And then there’s that spot, the one that simply begs to be touched. The one I know so well. The one that does things. And other ones. Oh yes. Making things happen. Watching, listening, every breath, every goose bump a note in my own personal symphony. The one I write each time, on your skin, your body, making it mine all over again.
Every inch of your spine becomes a bar, a note, a phrase, every hitch in your breath an arpeggio, every twitch a drawn out cadence. Every brush of breath, fingertip, hand and more as if an upbeat for the next movement, just waiting to happen.
This is not some special gift or talent. And yet…. to know your instrument so well, hear its every tiny sound, sense its vibrations, learn it’s every gift. This is how to make such astonishing music then. The kind you can almost taste, until you do. The kind you feel, even before you do, deep inside your core. The kind that moves, long before and after you do. So I will listen, watch, make music. Write a symphony. In every colour of the rainbow.
words: M. / Her Liege - image source needed
so there you are on a delightful summer night in july with a chilled bowl of cherries… or you are in a lovely restaurant and one of those glow in the dark cherries appears in your drink or dessert.. you’ll pick up the cherry..look directly into his eyes and sweetly whisper.. ’ do you know that i can tie a cherry stem with my tongue?’ i will guarantee..those july fireworks will go unnoticed..and that will be the fastest you’ve ever left a restaurant.
Truth. Works the same for guys saying it to women.