Sometimes, even when it’s bright outside,
I feel it slowly engulfing me.
It’s fingers brushes up my hands, my arms,
Caressing, igniting my thoughts.
I feel it’s lips in the crook of my neck,
Nipping at my skin moving down, and up again.
It’s perfect calloused hands flicks and rolls my perks,
Kneading my wounds, one by one, slowly and firmly.
I feel hot breaths fanning my mouth,
A soft hum rumbling against my chest.
I writhe and squirm, begging for more or asking to stop,
As it rubs and rolls hips against my tears.
I feel a smirk on the hollow of my nape,
And a hand wraps around my neck.
Like the morning dew settling lightly over the grass,
The Dark whispers a bye kiss at my ears,
Leaving me panting and aghast, in it’s aftermath.
Sometimes, even when it’s bright outside,
I feel The Dark slowly engulfing me.
whispers of love 