Satin Thoughts

Curves of strength,
A gentle touch;
Salty lines stream down her face.
Taunting memories,
Special grins,
Playful glances spot her body.
While those gentle touches draw her;
Like a butterfly to a flame.
It burns, crisp, brittle.
Burning passion,
Bitter taste,
Worn out lies.
The routine bores her, frightens her.
She had to do it,
There was no choice,
She had to do it,

I tell myself.