The black straps down to your décolleté | 1 |
feel sure, like my piano’s narrow notes. | 2 |
If I left them to stroke your ivory skin | 3 |
would you take charge and instead seduce me? | 4 |
I’d let you stir my thoughts and coax | 5 |
a gentle absinthe cloud and drink me in. | 6 |
And from the corner of my copper eyes, | 7 |
between honeyed words falling from your mouth, | 8 |
I’ll watch the ink and pitch of what you’re wearing, | 9 |
ride up on each unbitten eggshell thigh, | 10 |
and challenge "play me ‘til I flow and douse | 11 |
a blaze to an ashen bed”, and staring | 12 |
on my back I’d reach up to you, undressed, | 13 |
and may taste wormwood, | 14 |
rising off your breast. | 15 |