restless hands on soft smooth skin,
a work of art indeed,
fingers dance on supple flesh,
a song in mounting need.
sifting hair at nape so fine,
each strand its own lush dream,
tracing jaw and cupping chin,
a perfect pride filled seam.
etching on over full, bowed lips,
swollen with needful breath,
i bend my head, and take you in,
to taste of loves sweet death.