This place.. I remember..
This place.. this place between your left thigh, that fingertip spot covered by wiry, whirled, hair.
this place…here. I remember.
I remember my tongue dancing on the tip, like the best ballerina.
I remember the taste of caramel latte and a bit of cream..
….lowering my face until my nose is covered, I bury comfortably…resting, rekindling, and reassuring…I pull thighs closer and delicately kiss.
I rise to wanting eyes..”I’m sorry for being away for so long…I promise to stay this time.