her letter

handle with care the contents within.

dear reader,

for upon further reflection,
understand this candid confession:
cherish, do i, these brief tangles together,
keep my mind racing, my heart aflutter.

moreover, with each passing second
even i can no longer restrain

the lull of my lips, my tongue to beckon.
oh, how i wish we had lain
near enough to feel you breathe,
in candlelight, the hour late,
gown and garters cast beneath –
hurry, darling. i cannot wait
till then, i remain yours

writer’s thoughts

nestled in a velveteen envelope,
her intentions wrapped in prose –
each stroke of the pen
deliberate

brown eyes, flushed cheeks,
the curtain about to rise,
the show about to start

the tilt of her neck,
a meticulous welcome.
i can taste her.

she shudders
as if she’s read my mind,
and her hands guide my eyes,
then my hands,
to what i want to touch:

the nape of her neck,
her breasts – i’ll come back for those –
the slope past her navel,
home amid bare thighs

all that grace,
all that elegance,
drowned out by hunger

she lies back
and parts
like the curtain

encore.
encore.