Come and walk with me underneath the darkness of the new moon in the time of the honeysuckles.

Venus will cross paths with the stars, and we will fall to our knees with the azure light of our mistaken plans and ill-shaped dreams surrounding us like freshly budding clover.

It will be a time of the mystical and of possibility that lies ripening like summer’s heavy desire down upon our bare skin.

Come and sit beside me in the field overgrown with rumpled thyme and lemongrass.

The air will be heavy with the enchanting sweetness of the honeysuckle, a scent that makes men lose their minds and women misplace their reason.

I’ll reach for your hand and lead you into the shadows, the long grass wet with our masked yearnings thrown haphazardly along the way, creating tiny rivers of lapses in misplaced judgment across our ankles.

I can’t promise you the moon or stars, or to always be like I am in this moment, but I promise you dizzying passion of long nights and the voluptuous desire of early mornings.

And as I lead you through the warm June night air, heavy with longing and crystalline shadows of fingertips against unadorned skin, I’ll meet your eyes, and suddenly we’ll fall together with the force of the sea returning to its beloved shore after too much time apart.

Come make love with me on an heirloom quilt surrounded by wild foxglove and the colloquy of constellations in our eyes.

Our mouths hungry and yearning for the taste of fervor beneath each other’s skin, the embers of this moment creating tidal waves in the distance between your lips and mine.

I will undress slowly in the waning light of the moon, my deep cerulean eyes connecting with yours whispering the secrets of what will come—the ivory skin of my soft bare breasts rising and falling breathlessly aroused with anticipation for the first touch.

I hope you’ll put your hands on me and guide me into a rhythm of wanting and pleasure, taking my nipples and breasts into your mouth as if they’re the only nourishment you’ll ever need.

I’ll take the time to languidly trace memories of the past with my fingertips against your strong chest ready for the future as I place my mouth against your neck letting my breath heat up the cosmos of our passion.

I plan on becoming acquainted with each and every place that makes you gasp—kissing and licking the inside of your thighs, letting the softness of my hair and breasts press against you until you grow so hard you think you’ll lose your mind.

I will take you in my mouth, licking and sucking, touching and playing, until I can just begin to taste you.

I hope to taste myself on your wet lips begging for more, heavy from the praise of seduction.

And with fingers moving against skin, grabbing at the delicious flesh of heated desire, I’ll grab onto your hips, guiding you deep inside of me, rocking to the melody of a summer night.

Skin saturated with an unfathomable longing, I’ll keep moving my hips even after we’ve both shuttered and fallen against the temptation that surrounds us.

Intoxicated from the fragrant air and our never-ending thirst, I’ll drink the dew from your lips as we fall asleep under a velvety blanket of hope and dream with the promises of the stars.

Come, and lay me down in the time of the honeysuckles.

Author: Kate Rose

Editor: Evan Yerburgh

Image: Flickr/David Martyn Hunt & Timothy Marsee