His lips barely an inch from mine: I can smell the citrus mint
on his lovely breath. His eyes casted down, peers into mine
like glass on a clouded seeing pane. I want him to say my name.
He whispers honey silk in my eager ears and I grasp every word
in black ink that sears into my longing heart. His hands writes
a summer love story on my limp body, and I exhale trying to
note them all. It's too much. The magnet that draws us together
slowly leers my head towards his, my nose towards his, my lips towards his....
soft, his lips are.
The silk curtain between his mouth and mine open and the ectasy
that every drug can bring suddenly floods my aching senses: I melt
willingly into his carmel bliss.