Our sweat-sheened skin slides and squeaks across the shiny surface of the blow-up bed you laid me upon.

You led me by the hand through the crowd of revellers, just as I was guided through the throng of people escaping persecution.

I found freedom that day. Now I find it in you. Freedom to be. To love. To lust. To be true to my feelings and, after aching for what feels like eons, to taste liberation like never before.

As I run my fingers over your hot flesh and feel your mouth crushed against mine, I can finally let go.