Stinging raindrops collide with blossom petals, and the wind showers them upon us. Amidst fuschia pink and slate grey, we battle to slay the beasts within. Writhing on his impalement, he must see me like this, relentless and impassioned for what I crave.

Snorted air stings with ozone, and deep watery kisses are my inspiration. Clinging to life, the intense waves of ecstasy wash the fight from me. I am rising, and he is fattening, my mantra begs to make me his.

At its apex, we are three. The thunder rumbles, lightning scorches us, and in rapture, the inundation begins