He has brought me
to places I’ve never dared—
with words that moved
like his hand across my skin,
slow, knowing,
pausing in all the right places.
His commas
were our breathing—
ragged, held,
then deep again.
Exactly like how I wanted
his tongue to
to dive into the pearls
between my legs.
Every sentence
drew me closer
to the edge.
And when the period came,
It was the hush
after the tension snapped,
the quiet ache
of something undone.
And so I wait
to read him more
to drink his smiles
to applaud his words
that can unravel more commas,
elipses and question marks.
Rookie Scribe
