I dreamt of writing erotic fiction
and stirring your nerves with my lines;
I imagined my pen tracing across your skin,
leaving glistening ink along your spine.

My fine brass nib, polished point,
carves along the parchment rough,
leaving a trail of goosebumps on your hip,
and an aching sense of not enough.

I imagined inspiring a literary kind of ache,
A delicious blend of words and tingling sore,
I dreamt of writing erotic fiction
trapping you into wanting more.