The Only Gift Is You - Unwrapped

They dance around the obvious,
as if the collection of years
requires a different conduct
 
It never mattered
when he turned up
after the late shift
to feast on her
forfeiting sleep
to engage
in the call of pleasure
 
She asks every year,
and the answer is always the same
 
He no longer expresses it,
hoping at this point  
she should know
 
The gift of her body
is the only present he requires
 
But it doesn't seem simple
like those early days
 
For one night (or morning)
he wants her to shed respectability
and get on all fours
and beg for him
 
Gliding his tongue
bottom to top
and in between
wanting her glossed
and impatient
 
Cramming him
beyond the kiss of lips
to draw his shot
across her tongue
 
Maybe it will,
maybe it won't
 
But the twinge of possibility
is enough for now.