iterature:

brushing of fingers
every touch sends 
earthquakes through my body
shaking my bones out of their joints
erupting volcanoes of lust melt and glide down the hilly sides
of your hips and thighs and feet
i’m heaving and i’m spinning and
i’m lost - 

your fingers taunt and tease 
a beckoning index and a squinty eye
sleepless nights buried within your dimples
one side for purity another for dirty thoughts
trapped in between the gaps of your teeth and your
airy glances - 
do you want me?
because
i want you to want me to want you
too.