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Your skin is dry
so I weave my words into your freckles,
and glittering dewdrops appear at the nape of your neck.
I lace my tongue between your ample, apple lips--
sweet nectar cascades into the haven of my body,
warms me from the waist down.

I feel your honey fingertips
slip beneath the lace hanging lightly
on my hips.
My cherry skin heatens
as your palms lay like leaves
on my lower back.
The wind rushes from my nectarine lips,
flows past your ear,
and fondles your tree bark hair.

We nest inside the bed,
plum sheets intertwine
with our legs.
Your ocean wave breath
splashes my chest,
and I hum a soprano.


A brillant light pierces between us.
It's a sun made from pebbled flesh
and sighing lullabies,
and we revolve around it.