Cinnamon (Poem)

These nights, these blessed hours of deep blue,

wrap around our exuberant flesh,

like a blanket,

like your arms,

like the small creatures,

like me,

who wrap around taller,

deeper,

shadows,

to hide from sharper teeth,

and winder wing spans.

But, you and I are wide awake,

each hour,

precious salve,

these minutes,

a water renewing,

drinking,

till drunk, this love,

like no other love.

So sip me,

drink me,

suck me up,

Those fine fingers get my pretty eyes

rolling,

as the stain of a body's language

is like you painting poems and prayers,

in darkest India ink,

between my thighs,

Soft, adoring eyes,

your hardcore hands,

the taste of your tongue,

cinnamon rolling sweet,

across my lips.

These nights.

Such nights!

When two worlds crash together;

bodies charged and intoxicated

in the carnal radiance

of the silver city moonlight.

bvk, 2020.