For Timothy Lee, the best of me I oft lose my composure watching you near for love as a muse stays our passion infused. My insides are deliciously alive within delights your persona designs. Deep love still flames your ardor to ignite me in smolders scored by surrendered cries. Your calloused hands always feel like alpha plies of paradise your cravings ignite and I recall my first touch brought your raspy sigh, “Your soft slow hand feels like flitting fireflies.”