“Your hand finds its place, slow, possessive, tight, A claim on my throat in the heat of the night. Fingers curl, a wicked tease, Stealing my breath as you aim to please.

The pressure speaks what words can’t say, Commanding my body in your fierce, raw way. Each squeeze, a rhythm, rough and true, Marking the space where I’m yours to subdue.

My pulse beats wild beneath your hold, A reckless fire, untamed, uncontrolled. The edge of pain, the lure of bliss, Both collide in this sinful abyss.

Grip me harder, don’t let go, I’m yours to shape, to take, to know. The world fades out, it’s only us here— Power and passion, tangled, severe.” - Me

This poem was inspired by someone who found that a hand necklace is a way to evoke a state of calm in me. I love what it means when it’s used in a loving way-protection, safety, pleasure, and complete euphoria. The eye contact, the sharp inhales, the goosebumps, the whimpers. It’s everything to put me in state of feeling like perfection.