Underneath skin once tortured,
A light footed arousal
Whispers frothingly into
An essence of twice-hidden joy.
Your touch stained me entirely,
I feel it still,
A glowing sensation,
Warm and precious,
Pressing my soul into a fit of orchestrated illustration;
Finally, a point.
What possibilities stew and banter
In this new spring of vision?
Always forth coming is the spiral,
And intent likens situation
More favorable when momentum is positive.