threaded on soft, dark hair.
It should be breathed in, off skin,
in the nook of a neck.
It should be felt, fingertip to raisined fingertip
Its trail, tracing furrows down a chest.
It should be tasted, teased,
sipped off smokey lips.
Heard, whispered,
against the sound of your name.
Addendum: It should be banned, for moving souls like me,
to poetry.
*Ladies and gentlemen, exhibit (a) of GP. And you can't say I didn't warn you - that profile's been up for ages now.
