Honey dripping on tender
skin as tongue waits, eager,
for double touch, slow,
as a song of night, lithe,
against the moving black
trees and the silhouette of
moon that adds just a
splash, gentle, across the
meeting of faces, of bodies,
of lips and breath, rapid, folding,
laid out as a painting, displayed,
for an audience of two, entwined.

 

16/9/2025