Leah Rost
The heat of those moments spent in passion reveal my true emotion
as the wispy little hairs of your skin raise to my touch;
flushed lips part before gently meeting mine and radiating heat
that flows through my body and thaws the cold hands you always complain about,
every second new sensations bombard the grey matter in my head confusing and pleasing the neurons that fire in pace with my breath
until I’ve closed my eyes and let myself drift from under your touch
because your eyes are blue and I open mine wishing to see his coffee brown irises searching my body for every ounce of emotion I wouldn’t dare speak out loud and
I’m begging to stop thinking of him when I’m with you but my memory refuses to block out the nights I spent warm under his thick, strong arms and domineering hands.