Think of Me

For me, it is hard to write about someone I love.
It is hard to craft words into a magical order
that portrays a correct verbal measurement
of the warm golden light I feel when kissed by my lover.
It is hard to write, but easy for me to see
our bodies curled together beneath cotton sheets.
I can easily feel my fingernails gently raking across
the warm skin of my lovers soft buttocks.
A map of my lovers body is imprinted in me
It guides me to the familiar quiet corners,
the cozy pockets of rippled skin folding outwards and in
sweet valleys of soft prickly hair
subtle scents that only I would smell
These are the places where I dwell
anxious for the gift of moist lips on my neck
nostalgic of skinny fingers tickling me.
All selfish desires fortified by selfless deeds,
like giving my lover all she needs.
It isn't easy for me to say
that I think about my lover everyday
And when I don't I find it strange
then proceed to think of her once again.