The blank page on which I write
is a reminiscent shade
of your light flesh canvas.
If my tongue were a pen
I'd write you a masterpiece
dropping vowels like bits of ice
traced in calligraphy designs.
The texture of goosebumps
define the next line.
At the prompt of your moans
I would push my thoughts inside.
Will you take in a breath,
as my alliteration takes focus
placing a fuse to my muse
and tickling you in surprise?
The peak of this piece
will inspire your body to sing
raising up in mock protest
at the delight of collapse.
At the final line
I'll make a point
to end this with a sigh
and sign my name inside.
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