Last Night You Held My Skin Between Your Fingertips
Last night you held my skin between your fingertips;
You washed slow kisses upon my parted lips.
Last night you drew circles across my across my thighs, upon my naked knee;
And gave your closeness to me.
Last night you left lotus-marks upon my throat,
Your eyes seethed against mine, where I had grown remote.
Last night the night lengthened to conceal in billows of silk bliss
The aching memory of—happiness.
Last night when I trembled you held me still;
You pried me open—you stole with tender thrill.
Last night in the half-light you threw, you thwarted me with vim
And I was untroubled by the trouble that it was that it wasn’t him.