I dream about making love

I dream about making love, the kind that's soft and fills you with emotion. Not the lifeless violence that's my often choice. I dream suddenly of a love I can't escape from because it fills my heart to the brim. The thought of gentle caress, worship of this body of mine. Every part of me that I hide and repress being examined to the iris of another. With coarse lips hovering over the parts of me I dispise the most, landing over and over again accepting me in without hesitation. I dream of being devoured whole, not being owned as I often crave but being swallowed up into something else. I want to know I'm cared for by the way you make love to me, I do not want to question it. I want to soak in it, bathe in it, become it and let it become us.