Due to the prickly kisses I often forget what I've
remembered.
With contempt I would surrender floral essences that repeated a grim patting on
my windowpane.
Now an oral fixation that caresses tongue-less melodies on soft
lips,
And razors gently graze over other being's delicacies.
Lifting vibrations that send shivering laces upon the skin,
Like spider webs encase flies in sticky glue.
And left with your saliva on my eyelid and tip-toeing fingertips
across my navel,
Oranges left on the kitchen table
But we don't drink coffee
And we've the time to listen to the songs you play on four
wheels.
Tell me I'm a list of "firsts,"
Tell me I'm something different.
And I enjoy your skin like a slippery lemon,
I also savor your arms which taper at sensual angles.
Their tightening hold leaves me with a sense of security even if
the paranoia is still evident.
Blinking double when in the midst of a snoozing;
Awaking to rotate jet black pupils across the peaks of your
shoulder blades.
Where my little fingers try to tickle and run along your pelvic
bone,
With lack of vision my hands speak to me
And your silent breaths repeat your heartbeat,
Like a fervent melody of a train dancing across ragged tracks.
And with the walls which read of sorrow, this is genuine.
And with a week full of grand tomorrows, this is divine.
Only if she'd whisper that you'd watch your tongue.
Don't forget the "little" things.
She's complex and her heart carries its own breath.
Just be careful,
Even she knows not of what lies ahead.
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