The moon leaned in like a thief,
jealous of the heat spilling through my skull—
a fever-dream of you
pinning me to the kind of silence
that moans louder than sound.
Your breath—hot, reckless—
pouring sin straight down my spine.
My name breaking in your mouth
like glass under bare feet.
Fingers dragging the edge of pleasure
until it bled into worship.
It was pure indulgence—
a moment that could never survive daylight,
so it burned brighter in the dark.
The kind of craving
you don’t feed with touch,
only with thought—
because reality would ruin
what the mind makes feral.
Even the moon turned away,
afraid to choke
on the heat of what never happened.
~Kae Jaye~
Kae Jaye The Writer 