The heel of my hand can yin and yang your cheekbone's hollow, thumb and finger tease that ear lobe's cushion plush; can probe so lang- uidly along this niche beneath your knees. The luscious clutch of flesh holding your hips to ribcage-harp strums slowly with each sigh; those shoulders twitch how doves shrug, as my lips trip jawline, neck and collar, waist then thigh. I swear your skin tastes sweet between my teeth. I dare you, close those eyes and let me brush against each giddy iris underneath - their flickers quicken, blossoming through blush - I must touch every vertebra in turn before your sternum curves the arc I yearn.