Been writing last few days. Adding to collections

The Art of Timing.


I like patience. Being touched slow, like I’m something worth taking time to know.

Like I’m not rushed, not easy, not quick, like every place he finds, he sticks.
But I also love that moment it slips, when holding back falls right from his grip.

When his hands grow sure, when breathing goes thin, when that look says, you’re mine.

I don’t want one pace, one steady line. I love how he knows when to take his time,
and when to forget it, lose control, and take me hard in the middle of slow.


— BB