Touch is her love language,
The stem of each black rose remains tangled around her wrists and fingers,
The piercing of each thorn penetrates deep until the soul reawakens.

Bittersweet reminders.

Sensual imprints. Her lips on your neck but it’s subtle.
Written words in a crimson red, the excess ink runs green across the cold pressed paper, Let it drip across and watch her path appear.

A map to her brain. Mental stimulation, a visual representation.
A touch for a moment remains for a life time. Past times, a space on her chest.

Ear to heart, the colours of the beat. Green. Love. Left side. She’s right.

Water and Earth elements. Steady foundation.

Touch is her love language.
Engage with her and allow her to take you deep into the waters.
The sweet touch of a water scorpion.

Touch.