It seems that the moons sole purpose of existence that night was to bathe your porcelain face made up of pink, freckle-kissed lips that moved for my name, lash-laden eyes that fluttered in ecstasy, and smatterings of red curls thrown across the pillow that quivered in the same manner of your arched porcelain body in reactant to my touch.

The sights were just as pleasing as the sounds your parted mouth made: delighted yet sensually exasperated moans dripping with desire, and breathless whispers of "more" and "please".

This is my favorite way to remember you when I'm remembering you the most-
Until I remembered how it feels to go from on top of to underneath you.

XO- Magz.