There's so much sexy in our skin.
Something sensuous about the way it radiates lifetimes of sunshine absorbed. There is celestial romance inscribed in our hues, myths and fables and folklore of erotic affairs under the cloak of the cosmos. We make love in stardust whenever our skins touch. Me, melanin-soaked mocha, and you, earthy mahogany, with a kiss of midnight. We are animal and superhuman, dangerous and divine, from nowhere near here yet still very much so of Earth. For when we are entangled, we are sunshine and dust, and wave, and storm, and lava.
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February 2024
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