Invisible Line

An invisible line exists. You run toward it, dance near it, and brush against it. But you never cross it.

Maybe it’s the exotic scent that makes you pause for a moment. Or the path of curves, how they slightly widen as you scan them.

Maybe it’s the softness of a voice. The subtle shifts in tone that soothe and allure you. You’re pulled in, deeper than you wanted.

You crave to drag your tongue along the smooth exterior, to push inside the soaked interior and swallow until not a single drop remains.

You ache for your hands to wander with purpose. Alone, vivid thoughts play in your mind while you play with yourself.

When you speak, your desires are unclear, hidden. You endlessly rephrase your needs and change topics.

Because an invisible line exists. You breathe on it, lightly trace it, and slumber next to it. But you never cross it.