Lack of Decorum

Lack of Decorum

Can’t you see that every word you let fall from your lips
only makes me want to trace patterns of the stars
into every inch of the pale expanse of your skin,
to hear what your breath sounds like
when it’s expelled in a long exhale,
to watch your eyes widen at my impropriety,
to feel your bones beneath my hands.
This is a study of science: biology, chemistry,
the way my blood churns, my thoughts,
a rebel army, desperately climbing over all my walls.
I grind my teeth against this need to take in every part of you,
the same thought echoes off the far reaches of my brain,
every fiber of rationality is screaming no
but the way my tongue touches my lips,
the way my fingers ache to find their fill of you
seems to overtake anything my mind could throw at me.
I long for anything to blame, but these unbecoming fantasies
are mine and mine alone, my own yearning,
built on our rapport and my ache to press these lips to yours,
to be one with the wonder that is you, if only for a fleeting moment,
if only for one night, to calm my nerves and drink you in
so you can stay here forever, right underneath my skin.