Erotic Poetry - This Is What I Love

[katyt]

This is what I treasure.
In the quiet of the night,
as we both dream.
I rest my hand on her warmth,
a gentle touch, a silent connection.

If she stirs,
it’s a signal—
an invitation,
a wordless yes.

I trace kisses along her spine,
soft and unhurried,
drawing us closer in the stillness.

The memory returns:
the earthy scent of autumn leaves,
freshly raked,
their richness pressed against my skin.

I recall the forest floor,
its mysteries cradled in my palms,
a world alive with depth and wonder.

In her presence, I feel it again—
a quiet offering,
a sacred moment.

"This is my soul,"
she seems to whisper.
"Take. Hold."