PILLOW STARE

 

I stare

You aren’t aware

But I stare

I run my fingers through your hair

I watch as you exhale the air

What a sight you are

The might of your respiring chest

Which I lay on all night

Its neither built

Neither weak

But perfectly firm

Firm enough to rest my arm

And observe your beautiful face

Your ever puffy eyes

Your full lips

Your broad nose

I take it all in

How wavy your eyebrows are

How they come to a premature end

Right in the middle of your eyes’ terrace

Yet they are full and gorgeous in their incomplete state 

Your lower lip

A little tinnier that its twin

A little suppler

Ever inviting

A subtle pink

Not provoking, just my right shade of pink

I run a finger on them

They part unwillingly

Your drowsy striking eyes grapple to open

I watch as they flutter

You turn

Tiny tingly ears

Perfectly crafted

Crooked in a way

Gorgeous either way

I nibble at them

You moan

You can’t wake up

Not yet

Not when my survey is underway

So I let you lay

And I regard your hairs’ array

Ever clean

Not so neat

Not so lean

The troughs and crests they form

Give my heart comfort and rest

Weird I know

But still my tongue wants to row

Row into your enamel armory

Salvage your indrawn breaths

Burst your pulsating heart

And claim it all for myself.

 

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Spoken words fly away, but written words, written words remain engraved.

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