As you are so delicious.

Tracing the lines from collarbone to cheek, she smiles.
What a wicked array of teeth,
what a crooked way to grin.
Or, as some would say,
her eyes flickered with the deepest of intentions.
Swirling around her irises, playing around her pupils.

-

The fall of hands follows the
constant running
of fingers.

Over the curves that he
had kissed
and adorned
with the light whispers and gasps
punctuating every rhythm and flip
of his heart.

-

{There is something to said about words.
The collaboration of which they are put together.
The pencil of which they are drawn apart.}

-

She leads graphite into lines,
only to recollect the redness of his
tongue to lips.

-

Hands to hips,
he draws the feel of her skin
in his empty head.
(His lonely fingertips.)

-

Light stains pillows and clothes,
skin unwavering,
a fire of shadows. And a list of wants.