I spent last night
connecting the freckles on your chest
with ever-so-soft finger traces,
creating our own constellations
in these new milky ways
that erupt into existence wherever we touch.
The cool caress of your fingers across my lips
makes my every nerve ending awaken,
craving the unknown taste of yours.
But you don't allow me the indulgence,
leaving me to desperately breathe you in
like you are nothing but a passing breeze.
I savour how you shudder:
a silent sigh of your body
as my hand brushes
the top of your spine,
and the way the little hairs rise
into the glow of the moonlight
that slow-dances in the air above your skin.
And now I believe
you truly can fall in love
in one night.