pressure, bathed her, swept her, closer, brushed her, lingered, but
mostly, through all her, life she, did falter, in longing, in waiting, for
when he, would love her, again.

pressure, caressed her, but messed her, up faster, then ever, encountered,
by her, prior, to fingers, involved, in their quest for her.

pressure, indulged her, and simultaneously, teased her, massaged her, and
left her, quite pleased, afterward, to return, and turn towards her, once more.

pressure, would taste her, and guide her, and grow her, a garden, a new
life, a new heart... would taste her, and savor, fill its, lungs with her,
desire, and keep her, forever quieted.

pressure, assured her, before her, heart withered, and weakened, oh will
her, heart speak it ...the more she, could feel him, the less she, would
die then, the more of, his soul she, could drink from, so lovely, the less
that, she would have, to want with, and not get, the best gift, he could
give, just pieces, of wanting.

so please just apply pressure, she is NOT the aggressor, just touch her,
and love her, what is the rest for? push her, and press her, lean in
against her, enclose and protect her, hold her, no lesser ...just apply
gentle pressure, you bring out the best in her, her weakness, is measured,
in psi ...pounds per square inch

-Susanne Estelle Hendrickson