It was written in her. 

The satin-like softness of her skin called to a lonely bystander in the bedroom.
The rain, as it poured seemed to be a never-ending symphony.

She lay there, perfectly poised on pink silk sheets, tangled within them as I was within her.
She was what I had known to be a rarity.

The kind of lover, I dreamed about in fits of extricating desire.

Not for a body that canvased perfection but for a mind that displayed beauty.

There she called for me, through an orchestra of scattered sighs.
Honey began to envy the way she dripped without regret.

"Touch. Take. Taste."

Her words, repeated to me on the most isolated nights... 

Like this one.