I want to slowly undo you...

The soft curtain of lush hair
seems to fall in slow motion now,
a dark flourish of silk waves 
lapping against your shoulders.

I cannot stop taking you in....

As your hair grazes against me,
I undo the smallest knot,
the bow on your lingerie
a subtle and tangible display
saying to carefully open you

Expose the tiny freckles along your chest,
I touch them as if each one
may be braille that fingertips
can wordlessly communicate with,
the pulse beneath them seems to
always be trying to say so much more.

Maybe I'm reading this all wrong,
your skin is a more complex calligraphy...

Maybe they're more like emblems,
an unknown language I read the trail of
and feel the first anxious gasp escaping,
that barely audible cue to touch more,
to reach deeper than before...

My tongue must go further, 
to transduce the need coursing through,
I encircle the nipple's sensitive point,
an excruciatingly slow swirling,
as you whisper and ask what I think...

"Perfect," I mouth the words,
words you cannot hear,
words you may never believe.

I want to slowly feel you....

The soft slick petals parting
seem to pull me in slow motion,
a searing flourish of silken depths
clasping tightly around every inch

You never stop taking me in...

As your legs ensnare hips,
fingers find the smallest fleshy hood,
the most subtle knot that elicits
a hungry rasp to just undo you.

Maybe I'm reading this all wrong,
your skin is a more complex calligraphy...

And expose the center beyond 
while locked so deep inside,
I still kiss the freckles on your chest,
lick each one as if they're braille
telling me exactly where to touch,
how to move for and through you,
the pulse beneath them seems to
say so much more as I explode.

You ask in a whisper what I'm thinking
and my ear presses against 
the arc of a warm breast.

"Perfect," I mouth the words,
words you cannot hear,
words you may never believe.