I like music that sounds like sex; slow motion. The sound of a tap on a drum like a heart beat, a soulful, emotional voice like rhythmic breath, chords of a guitar that sound like hips swaying deep and low, the deep throb of bass like lust swelling inside. A song, that you relate to, like the tension between the two of us before your lips close in on mine, a flutter in my chest when I think, “I thought I was the only one who felt this way”, like the butterflies in my stomach when you’re finally mine. I can’t help but imagine surrendering to you.
Connected by the cadence of the song that fills the infinity between us.
Touch me softly; run your hand through my hair, breathe a whisper into my ear. Kiss me sweetly; savor the honey on my lips, the purity in my sigh. Raise shivers across my back with the tips of your fingers and warm me with the electricity from your body. Slow me down to your hum, follow the lyrics across my flesh, and pour yourself into me like abstract.
When the melody accelerates, and the pulse of the bass radiates through our bones, and the swagger of the guitar amplifies, touch me like it can’t be a mistake. Tell me what you want. Tell me with your lips and the passion behind your caress. Grip my hair in your hand and hold me like you mean it. Seize my flesh, consume me with abandon. Leave a mark. Strip me of my inhibitions, and seethe at the scrape of my nails.
Put your hands on the curve of my waist with pressure great enough to leave a small indentation of fingerprints on my skin. Please, hold me like you mean it. Pull me under and close yourself around me. I’ll drown in your rhapsody; your rhythmic breath like an soulful voice, your heartbeat vibrating through my skin like the tap of a drum, your hips like the strains of a guitar, swaying deep and low, and my lust throbbing like bass against you.
Swell to the sound of magnetism.