Your palm descends, a heavy binding claim, And seals the column of my pulsing throat. The world contracts to one red beating flame, Where only heartbeat and your low voice float. Fingers tighten with deliberate grace, A loverβs collar made of living bone. My breath grows shallow, silk and burning lace, The air turns honey-thick, a stifled groan. Each measured squeeze becomes a sacred rite, The edges blur, the lights begin to swim. I feel my body lift, then fall through night, Yet anchored only by your steady limb. My chest heaves wild against your iron hold, A frantic bird that beats its wings in vain. Yet deeper still the pleasure starts to unfold, A molten wave that drowns me in sweet pain. And when the grip releases, slow, controlled, The rush returns in one delirious flood. I gasp your name like prayer, broken, boldβ For trust has made this choking into love.
