Our Baroque of Bare Breaths

Your sigh—flute’s trill upon my waiting neck,

Awakens chords that hum beneath my breast.

Melodies where naked spirits—erect,

Notes wild and free, where passions seek their crest.

Each touch, a whole note, bodies, andante, coalesce,

A prelude to a symphony of our scents,

Where songs of pleasure swell, we gently press,

Our emotions we softly bare—no consent.

Your skin, a sun-warmed drum—hands descend,

We resonate in rhythms—smooth and deep.

Exploring with you, lost in sweet desires, ageless spent.

I taste the salt where gentle currents seek sleep.

Our inner music flows, a tide without a name,

In Gaia's Soothing Haven, our bodies, unashamed.