Would My Lips Taste Any Sweeter With The Dew Of Your Breath Condensing On Their Folds?
Would They Shine In The Candlelight Of Our Room?
Would They Part So Easily If Your Phantom Tongue Did Not Slip In Like Envigorating Oxygen?
They Provide As Much Relief And Necessity As Breath.
The Weak Sunlight Of The Morning Makes Everything Ethereal And Gentle Around Its Edges.
It Makes My Eyes Droop In Silent Joy At Your Repose.
Your Breathing Is A Lullaby More Melodic, More Tuneful Than The Sparrow At Dawn Do Tweet.
Your Hands Wander Across The Topography Of My Skin.
The Hems Of Various Articles Of Clothing Are Raised Slowly Over Heads And Up Pale Thighs.
I’m Modest As You Know, But I Trust You More Than Him.
Shivering In The Dark You Wrap Your Arms Around Me And Warm My Frigid, Aching Bones.
It’s A Good Night, When I Can Melt Into Your Body And Live.