You imprint your warm breath
On the edges of my neck ,
And like black soldiers rising in resilience
My skin forms goosebumps that trickle down in a pattern of frustration.
Like little obstacles placed to challenge your lustrous desire to taste me .
I am a textured canvas .
These dots are not there to map my body .
Not for your navigation .
Not for you to find pieces of me as if I had abandoned them.
Lost .
Find yourself.
Move swiftly along this artwork
like the sway of my hips captive in
Your arms.

Feel.