She opens me up like the warmth of spring to a tulip. It had taken a long time to start crying again; since almost dying in the snow.

I melt. It feels so good when it happens, and we make love. We sweat and squeeze. Taste each other. Feel the other’s curves with our hands and hips.

It is reciprocal, unashamed and passionate. If she was heated but I was not, she wouldn’t press.

It is hushed and playful. Afterward, we clean each other, the bed invites back and we lay.

Our beings bask in each other’s glow like binary stars.

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