The Taste of You

Your breath, I taste what is like to be you. Our tense and tightened mouths relax and give way. The smell of your hair, the tilt of your head, my fingers entwined in your hair, and suddenly aware of each breath you take. Lips, sticking then breaking free, soft cheek, delicate jaw, my breath heaving like a river over the levee, flowing into your ear, as you grasp on for life, to save yourself from drowning, yet longing to drink it in. The throb of your neck upon my face, beckoning. My lips salted by your skin, widen and grin, with pity for those who will never know the taste of you.