I wrapped myself in your scent,
soft cotton brushing against bare skin,
your hoodie slipping from one shoulder,
exposing more than the night dared to see.

The ocean kissed my ankles,
cool waves lapping higher, teasing,
as the wind tangled in my hair,
lifting it like the hands I ached to feel.

Beneath the fabric, my body stirred,
heat blooming where your touch had lingered,
each thread infused with your memory,
each breath thick with wanting.

The night poured silver down my spine,
soft light tracing my curves,
as my fingers skimmed the hem,
toyed with the edge, as if you were watching.

My hips shifted with the rhythm of the tide,
slow, aching, lost in the quiet pulse of need,
the sand molding to my movements,
as if the earth itself craved the press of my body.

The hoodie fell lower, slipping over one thigh,
baring warm skin to the night’s hungry gaze.
I imagined your hands there instead—
firm, exploring, taking their time.

My lips parted as the breeze kissed them,
its teasing touch no match for the memory of yours,
the way they had lingered, slow and deep,
writing silent poetry across my skin.

The weight of your hoodie settled on my shoulders,
but it was your body I longed to feel,
pressing against me, stealing my breath,
fingertips tracing paths of fire down my waist.

I closed my eyes, letting my body speak,
hips rolling, breath unsteady,
as if the night itself could feel my hunger,
as if the stars pulsed in time with my wanting.

The waves curled around my thighs,
pulling me deeper, calling me home,
but I knew I was already there—
wrapped in you, wrapped in the ache,
a secret waiting to be unraveled.