Yuputka

It’s like a feather floating across the hairs of my arm, the wisps of the barbs giving me a pleasant tickle as it glides by in the wind. Or perhaps it is the tiniest of spiders filled with venom, crawling its way across my arm to my neck, and with such a light weight I won’t notice the danger until it’s too late. I like to think it’s you, hovering your fingers above my skin, skimming across my arm to give me the most gentle caress that you know will make me swoon.