Lips sweet and firm and moist;
Cling peach slices in syrup,
With still that gentle fuzz
Of invisible moustache.
You close your eyes, but not quite.
I see the sly glance of emeralds,
Beneath the shadow of blue lids
And faint tracery of veins.
Fingers lightly touch your nape:
Hair bright with henna sheen;
Scent of cocoa butter and jojoba,
As I breathe you through my nose.
I taste your smile inside my mouth,
As you nip my lower lip in play.
The enfolding of your body;
Gamine curves within my brutish arms.
I would devour you;
I would consume you whole,
If we do not suffocate
Upon the ouroboros of passion.
All four elements combine
In lust's combustion; the smack
Of moisture, panting gasp for air
And earthy waft of pheromones.
You break the suction; face flushed
With arousal and stubble burn
And fix me with such a stare,
Like Medusa with your tousled hair.
I remember the way our teeth scraped
Together and our noses squashed
And that little bit of dribble on your chin:
I remember perfection - and how it never was again.
