My touch soaks in, through your eyes to your mind.
Your hand conveys desires I write.
Self pleasure, self love, inspired by me.
The dreams I commit to the page set free.
Reading you create the scene within.
You and me envisaged in blissful sin.
Sighs of joy you stifle to hide.
Until you can’t til lust lets fly.
My touch now seems oh so real.
It courses to create the glow you feel.
And to think I lie a thousand miles away.
But somehow I still touched your soul today.
Touched
