Studying

--

I study your hands.

Knuckles like hills, like blankets or sheets

Like leather or silk, yet bumpy and sweet

Your fingers are pillars that rise from your palms

To stretch toward the sky with its ocean-like balm

Sandpaper pads graze the velvety cloth

Alluring me as the cruel flame does a moth

Your tendons twitch under the stretch of your skin

Convulsing in patterns known only to sin.

--

I study your eyes.

Glassy and glossy, they’re made out of gold

Amber-stained cotton that melts at the folds

Entangled in chestnut, a deeper, dark hue

They wrestle with passion and fervor on cue

Beautiful open, just as lovely when closed

Because though they are lidded, they never are clothed

Lashes then lay on the skin of your face

Softly and faintly they act as black lace

--

I study your lips.

Curved in a pout, bent to blossom and ripe

Escaping are syllables frequently trite

I trace with my eyes the dips and the turns

A road that meanders and fades to a blur

Colored a shade of thin petal-pink

A tongue darting out in a ghost of a lick

Freckled with zeal, an iridescent heat

They hover and kiss, like blankets or sheets.

--