My labia tingles
at the thought of your comforting arms
wrapped around my body.
Your fingers brush my face
and put a stray hair back
where it belongs.
The same hand roams down my torso
resting to trance my lips
through my panties.
Just the thought of you
plunging headfirst
into me
makes me wet.
In a way,
I don’t even need you,
because the images
rolling around in my head
can be felt
by my physical self.
Lying next to you,
our stomachs touching,
you mark every inch
of me
with traces of your DNA;
fingerprints.
If they were to dust
any part of me,
they would know
that you are the culprit
who has kept me...
warm and rested.

By Sarah Hulin