car horns, insistent,
floors away, a soft musical interlude
filling

this room, infused with jasmine,
a candle-wick extinguished, scorched,
soot drifting on

thick air,
cloyed with unspoken tenderness
expressed instead in jewels of sweat,
insistence to eclipse past pleasures,
fingers laced together,
flurries of kisses lasting for as long
as we’re lost in the other’s lips,
lingering touches, too delicate
for casual lovers,

you, washing off my scent
by nightlight, like i am wet with
witchcraft, like my ******* are spells
and if your skin remains stained
you won’t be able to break them,

me, curled in your sheets
like my tongue around you,
waiting for your arm to wrap me up
like a slow-creeping vine
on thin trellis wires.