as if you knew my eyes
would take time to drink you in,
the thick curls spilling around you,
silken to the very root.
The tease of a shoulder,
the tease of toned legs,
somehow even more revealing
than your form entirely disrobed.
But there's so much more to know
in each still that captured and froze
another layer to be uncovered.
One of them mirrored me a little,
some essence resonated in
seeing you put words to paper,
a pen's point silently flowing.
I wondered what worlds
moved behind your dark eyes,
if you poured your most concealed
insecurities into each careful line,
if you unleashed every intimate desire,
the most heated carnal wants.
Before I know the answer,
another still flashes,
another frame you once inhabited,
it was brief and without a story.
But, like me, you have a drive,
an obsession for mining the details ,
for seeing stories within stories.
Your palm shielded your face,
eyelids closed and lips slightly parted,
as if you were going to whisper,
maybe to pull me closer,
or maybe to stay away for now.
The darkness in your eyes
are the countless nights
that folded around your heart,
all at once mysterious and telling
of the beautiful worlds
always moving through you.
There was so much more exposure next,
a testament to the countless
angles and sides your being houses.
A white shirt draped over smooth skin
beckons the path for knowing fingers to coax,
for a tongue to circle the sensitive
peaks straining against thin cotton.
Another still suddenly takes its place,
as if you've given them sentience
and must reveal more now,
displaying a canvas of bare flesh,
calm and unyielding and more exposed
than I ever knew you could be.
This revelation seems to have full circle,
a trail leading back to a morning's calm,
but this is a stillness waiting to be broken,
a strum of pulses rippling through the air.
Some essence resonated
in you to draw me here,
clue by clue, layer by layer,
until gravity's pull and primal aches
have fused as one and the same.
There's so much more to know,
to taste and inhabit,
a frenzy waits within bodies,
but I mirror you now.
Our unleashing takes time,
patience that escapes far too many,
this precipice could be
fatal in another's hands,
could obliterate details we've mined.
Even as the first touch ensues,
when that first fingertip slowly traces
carefully down the spine, lower and lower,
I see stories within stories along your skin,
inhale perfumes that cannot be named
and leave me as exposed as you are now.
As lips part to whisper my name,
as lips part to envelope me in heat,
desire at its most natural,
its most feral plane beyond
simply easing in and out.
