I would chase the scent of your hair
down dark, eerie alleys.
A blessing, perhaps a curse,
if you were there
standing idle,
waiting for me to reach the end of your trace.

I would look up, breathless,
after rolling up and down
Through hills,
searching for you,
a hidden beauty among the others.

Let me kneel,
offering you my soul,
submitting my will.
I would kiss your thighs,
find all the ways to worship you.

My hands would run
through the cotton of your shirts,
seeking refuge underneath
defrosting in the campfire of your hips.

I would dance for rain
around the beauty marks of your body,
planting seeds of kisses,
waiting for a downpour.

Let me be drenched
in all that is you
completely, sorely
you.