I want to hold the back of your head,

and pull your mouth into mine.
I taste you.
I taste you.

Baby, your soothing lips taste of bitter coffee and mint.
Your beard tickles my face.
I smile against your mouth,
I move to the tender hollow of your neck,
and amidst the sweet cosset of my lips,
I whisper,
“We can't stay long.”

Our longing held captive by a relentless hurricane.

Yet, we’ll find our way.

I'll see you soon in the eye of the storm.