His hands
burn away at my momentary doubt

my skin becomes softer beneath his lips.

his lips taste like a postage stamp for an unwritten letter

with slowly drifting fingers, he writes to me:
he asks about my day with his palm on my rib cage and his sighs in my ear.
he kisses the center of my chest, and tells me a story about friends I've never met
he suckles my ****** when he talks about his alcoholic father.

and he writes goodbye with his hips between my thighs.

he provides no return address.
he simply signs his name.