skin so deep; where my outside caresses my Innermost...

so soft to my touch and how i love to stroke and feel you.  no lover ever did you rightfully in this regard, not the way i *do...

the sensitivity you show baffles my thought.  you are so open to the subtlest rhythms of a churning turning Life.  i sense you feeling deep of the atmosphere that envelops us.  i sometimes reel at the heaviness of

sensing you transmit.  truly fathom less your Knowing.

around some you sing out loudly to be explored.  

to be introduced and playfully met and experienced,

wearing less showing more exalted in the drama

but around some others you seem to want to crawl away, to cover our treasure of sensual sensing, 

not wanting to be seen.  

to share even the sight of you-- a true wealth on exhibit but not for those who squander waste denigrate life *live and love poorly.

and still around certain others there are those who do not move you at all--you now numb inexpressive humming in stasis stillness of dis/non engagement

no less sensing simply quiet observing (a) waiting...?

bold as the flower in joyous bloom your signature scent rising effusively, sits there.  hovering lightly. 

your heady cocktail of tones and shades 

in their primal earthy-ness shimmers 

out to receptive world

in some parts you are pitted and rocky while

leaving other planes smmoth with moisture

(essential oils of bodily production) 

dotted throughout your peaks and valleys with moles,

flat and rising.

you thing of marvel-- 

how you turn me on!

as always i am in waiting, for that next breeze 

to blow through so as to be lovingly caressed Innermost by the pleasures of You my

silky milky outermost...