Poem: Perfect

Not the most well-thought one, but I wanted to make deadline, and I'm in a romantic mood.


Perfect

Comfortable breath
breathing against me
and a threading of fingers
sliding against smooth skin
that's been set afire by moonglow
and warmth...
and warmth.
Talks that are gentle
love that is hard
silence that is golden,
a breath that
breathes against me
sweetly.
Warmly.
Shhh.
Don't you realize people are
at their most content
when they're the most quiet?
Come and lay beside me
and let the wind do the talking
gently curling through your hair
and threading through my fingers
that are lit with the flame of our warmth
and the moon that spreads like wildfire
right before us.
Perfect, baby.
Perfect.