saturday afternoon scribbles.

[cc_magnifique]

untitled

If I could trace my existence
in the curve of your neck

or live eternal in the small slope
between shoulder-blades - tasting with my tongue
the elixir of eternity

the salt from your skin is

I think forever should not daunt me
if this be my damnation --
my fingertips navigating the globe
finding the axis
where spine ends and

the heat of your thighs pressing

down

I will want no always but to hear
the half-buried cry
our mouths seeking in the privacy of

darkness

the sweetest agony of your smile

- J. Carter