I.

whispering at the mirror

my silent soliloquy

slip into my clothes and

wake-me-up coffee

cools in my hands

II.

the staccato of your fingers

taps across my face

burning in tingling memories

III.

i have an idea:

be my

Romeo and we’ll live every line

but minus the part

where we die.

IV.

dreaming

freckled fingers slide

along the curve of my hips

so softly and slowly

delicious