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Set fire to your heart
I trace my fingers over your lips,
It's not to turn you on,
It's not to prepare them for me,
It's not a way to keep contact when our mouths part.
I trace my fingers down your spine,
It's not on the way to another place,
It's not just for your embrace,
It's not to make your skin rise in bumps and chills.
When my fingers dance across your chest.
It's not to work up to the dark areas there,
It's not to be lost in the curves,
It's not planned to make you want.
Men will lose themself in you I know. But this man wants to find himself there.
The mole on your chest is my home.
The v in your lips that shows them made for me.
The shape of freckles and moles on your back that draw a map,
to treasure which only I know.
I don't always touch to light a fire in your body.
But I do always touch to set fire to your heart.
Copyright ©
Paul Lloyd
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