Her skin was soft. Her skin put me at ease. Her skin pulled away my angst, stress, and haziness. It was therapeutic in its endless sublimity. It felt better when she loved me. She felt better when she knew me. She tasted better when I knew her. Her heartbeat told a story. Her breath exuded her essence, her aura, the thing that I couldn’t see, only felt. She had the power to open my eyes. I was born again inside her, no longer wondered what it would be like inside that work of art. There was nothing sweeter than her. When I was with her I knew who I wanted to be, where I wanted to be. I couldn’t convince her to feel the same. She drifted and I sailed.