4

I want to write poems on your skin.

I’ll use my mouth to trace syllables and allusions across your chest,

And chart a haiku down your spine.

I want to make a novel of the freckles on your arms,

I’ll tell a story of love and despair and happily every afters.

Let my fingers walk across your hips and down your thigh,

I’ll tickle you with comedies and hopeless romantics.

I want to plant a screenplay on your lips,

And watch it grow into an A-list movie.

The words that come out of your mouth

Are far more beautiful than any celebrity.

You've already won all of my awards.