Beneath the twilight’s sigh,
a sacred pulse boldly awakens
soft whispers blossom where
shadows dwell, a powerful yearning
hum resonates within the chest
Every touch sends powerful ripples,
an ancient song, a lover’s prayer
through the air. The body speaks confidently
in tongues of fire, a bold dance of breath
and soul’s undeniable desire
Yet, in this storm of silken grace,
a quiet voice, a steady trace—
it guards the heart; it holds the key,
to sensuality’s sanctity
For passion’s flame, though wild, untamed,
must be preserved, revered, proclaimed
not squandered in the fleeting night,
but cherished in the morning light
The softest sigh, the warmest skin,
are treasures found deep, deep within
not to be claimed, nor bent, nor sold,
but nurtured tender, pure, and bold
Preservation, the quiet art,
of knowing when to shield the heart
to honor pleasure’s sacred well,
while weaving love’s eternal spell
Thus, let us touch with hearts aware,
and tread with steps as light as air
for sensuality’s sweetest song,
lives where the heart has loved all along
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