Under my fingertips your lips were moist.
I was certain I heard your pleasure voiced
Those goose bumps were real, I felt at your door.
That brief stolen kiss whispering one more
My feet in the door, one more kiss to gain
Hands slid down your frame I knew you’d abstain
Intoxicating scent left on my hands
I left rather quickly fearing quicksand
© 2011 Michael Yost