Wine dark midnight

You draw me close with slow, deliberate grace, Like velvet curtains closing out the world, And every breath between us deepens into want— A languid fire neither of us names aloud. Your touch is decadent, almost dangerous, A patient study of shivers and sighs, Fingers gliding like silk over bare skin Until thought itself dissolves into sensation. The room grows heavy with perfume and heat, With whispered hunger pressed against my throat, Your lips tasting faintly of red wine and midnight, Soft enough to ruin my restraint entirely. And God— The way you look at me in those moments, As though desire were not crude or fleeting But something sacred, luxurious, consuming. You unravel me slowly, artfully, Like loosening ribbons from a cherished gift, Until all that remains is pulse and ache And the exquisite tension of wanting more. Outside, the night continues without us, But here, tangled in linen and candlelight, Time softens into something molten and endless— A symphony of closeness, breath, and trembling devotion.