Too Close To be Not Close Enough

 

 

 

Loose at the hip, broad at the shoulder

Tracing the crease of his jean with the

Fingers he uses to roll our joint

Legs, long lean hairy, scarred by the

Tree that stands down by the lane

Spider leg eye lashes encase the

Pools of mystery he hides from all

Ruffling the duvet he marks his night

Time territory. Drops the jeans, rubs

His stomach and denies me the pleasure

His teasing pheromones dancing on my

Pillow; evoke the tension of intimacy

He sleeps while I dream and smell

The forbidden fruit of what could be

His toes swaying with the rhythm of his

Breath; his curls falling on my face

And it is all he will allow.