What I mostly want to do
Is run my hand down the length of her naked body,
warm with the moonlight that radiates from the center,
going in and out with the perfect slopes that she has grown
just by living.
She is the front pocket of my jeans,
She is my hair that shelters my back,
She is an aura, present
but blended like charcoal.
If you splattered her colors on my grayscale
I would not mind.
They are the undertone to every stroke of my arm,
the backdrop,
the forefront,
enveloping me from the front and behind
So high off my fumes
that she thinks I am a good person.
I won't stop her,
because hopefully by the time I am finished loving her
Down, around, and inside that body
I will be.