Amongst the forest of your ribcage
Pounding feet muffled by moss beds
Racing and weaving betwixt a wig of vines
Elusive artist, gymnastic god

Can I catch him?
Do I dare try?

If I ever did, or could,
Reach out and ****** his wrist
Would I not ensnare him?
Like severing the flower from her stem,
Wishing to keep hold of her forever,
But just like her petals, he would wither.

No.

I will not tear through these woods that are not my own,
To entwine him around my finger.
He was not made for capture, but to captivate.
This is not a hunt,
It is a game of tag
And I will burn after him
If only for one touch
Before he sprites away again.

A wood elf and his girl
Making love in the forest of your ribcage.