A kiss for the side of your neck
One for the last of your back
For a year that we couldn’t meet
I will meet you in December
And warm up the year-long winter
Digital ropes on your white wrists
Each moan like expensive porcelain crashing on slippery marble
I will clothe your body in verses
Who cares if we look like torn poetry books or worse
I want to lead you to the edge of the page
And push you only halfway.

Cover Image: Pixabay