i feel his hands on me
the pads of his fingers
soft as new snow
yet warm to the touch
exciting a fire in me

running fingers through my hair
a stream of auburn locks
but his lips
oh his lips
the way those peach pink lips part
and collide with mine
is like the brilliance of a thousand stars

his skin is warm as if he baked in the sun all day
i can practically hear the drumbeat rhythm of his heart
thrum, thrum, thrum
beating in-synch with mine
as his cheeks flush red
i feel like i’m his
but i’m not
almost
almost
almost enough