Private markings of past affection, wedged between my daily doings. Sometimes they spring up and my level rises. I am skipping days already, waiting for the affection to be pressed into me leaving its brand.
Can I have a quick taste of what it will be like? Brief, sweet, demanding my attention...
Sinking into it I can't stop the chase. Too late to pull back, the current pulls me in.
Whisper to me, I will hear, tell me everything it will be, I will believe you.