I wake up tired in your arms.
Eyes trying to stare
through the film of clothing-filtered light
into your face
Lips trying to breathe
life into your lashes:
the span of butterfly wings
Soon enough, they will flutter open
and I will immediately be captured
by your amber spheres
And you, will blink me into focus
and I will gasp while your fingertips
Graze - Stroke - Tease
The dark, rugged peak of my mounts
And your peeling lips will tantalizingly
wander into the crook of my neck,
gorging ever unsatisfied
at the tightness of my skin:
unyielding to your persisting ministrations
and I will pause.
Scrutinized by your eyes
And as you clamp me down
Beneath your soft warmth
I can't help but think:
I miss you already.
Comments
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Now now Angela... behave.
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