The invitation of
Lightly parted lips
The way you curl
Into me,
Resting on my chest
And those little things
Come to me as gifts,
Through the day,
Reminders of
A rough and tender
Sweetness,
I miss the chance
To be selfish with you
To slake my thirst
To dig my fingers into
Your skin and hold you
Down with all the desire
Within me
Remembering things we’ve
Done alongside the
Promise of things to come
And they dull the sting
Of busywork
MB Blissett 