Lay your craven hands on me.
Spread me open and trace the scriptures of my body,
Survey the map of my ripe flesh.
A constellation of freckles deckles a shoulder,
A dainty dimple adorns a cheek.
Catalogue them all with lips, tongue and teeth.
Crack my spine and spend hours buried between my delicate pages,
Passion incites an inferno in your eyes as you lose yourself in my stories.
Stretch marks from an adolescent growth spurt stripe a curvy hip,
Track their rugged paths to the sweetest of valleys.
A scar shadows my chin from a childhood bike accident,
Kiss the marred reminder of long by gone years.
You decipher my text as you leave your own mark,
A sultry colophon to show me where you’ve been,
Or to remember your favorite passages as line by line you devour me.
A voracious scholar, you study me from cover to cover.
Versed, wet fingertips caress every sweet vellum page,
Slimmed ever so gently, but with practices expertise.
With every turn you read me like a poem,
Sweet stanzas, soft meter, and languid rhythm.
Luxuriate in me so you may memorize every line, every word, and every syllable.
Supple fingers eager to turn each page to unveil something new,
Something, wild, but tender.
The wet rawness of my holy writ laid bare,
Begging for your faithful worship.
You are a logophile and I am but a tome of desperate need and frantic want.
With each intimation, you press deeper into me.
Such a studious and attentive devote,
Seeking the codex of carnal knowledge hidden at my very core.
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