Whoever received this one from you Sochi Azuh i'm sure is blushing from head to toe. As it is, I'm still busy trying to fan the heat off my face. But that could just be me.
something fluid as milk, scented as a fluted flower
and you wanting me to tell you makes me want to even more:
to tell you those words that wrap your day, chocolate in foil
crinkling, unfolding on the twists, finally losing itself when it drops to the floor
between my thumb and forefinger, i bring to the skin of your lips – and stop!
your ears first: hot breath on its tender lobe
(these words alone are pure enough to touch you)
your lips have parted like a locket of ivory and red something-something
it is here that i see the hat trick of suspending your anticipation as mine
these words are melting under the heat of your breath
as they soften under the pressure of these envious fingers
that will not touch you. yet the gleam of your painted lips tempts
a second of waiting. “not yet. not yet.” wait a little longer.
psyching eros through a balancing act in rationing passion, not too much, not too soon
you want to hear it, something sweet, my sweet
and you wanting me, wanting to hear it, makes me want to, want you
these words are a glob of sweetness rolling down my thumb and forefinger
so when I finally say those words you want to hear ...
you know it’s your turn to lick this sweetness off these lucky fingers!