His freckles are careless, his beard a bush of wild thorns scraping my cheek.
His laugh is rolling thunder and the crackling of a fire
Cowering down to meak embers
which spark and flicker
Like the amber beads resting upon his Cheekbones.
His words are gently spoken
But his brow remains fierce;
Stubborn and harsh above the softest of hazels.
I crave them like chocolates and caramels.
And oh, how he can melt me.
They’re blazing in their almost – reds
At their finest I swear I can taste them
Burning my tongue like hot peppers and making me beg.
Sometimes his vibrant suns fall dim beneath a drawn – out Autumn.
It washes his face in a terrible grey I wish only to steal on the days when his movements are quiet
and his words
There’s a cigarette where my lips ought to be
When his mind is clouded in the haze of
Toxic smoke and worry.
There’s a bittersweet sadness behind his laughter and the hints of evergreens which pooled under his pupils have vanished into the burnt depths of his beautiful, troubled mind.
We’ll be alright…
His mouth is a gorgeous weapon.
It breaks everything around me and banishes all I’ve ever known.
His deep and terrifying power compels me
Shifting something deep within me no other man could move.
It tortures my spirit
And captures my soul.
I’ve never known magic like it.
At nightfall he plants kisses on my temples, which blossom into thoughts of forever;
A place I once vowed to stay far from, but he now tempts me to lust after without the burden of fear.
His hands brush my skin
And I inhale deeply.
His body is my sanctuary.
Loving him is coming home.
© The Knocked Up Stripper