Thirstier than the Towel Wrapped Around Your Waist

 
Early morning awake
listening to you in the en suite
the low rumble hum
of some unknown song
plays to the applause of the shower

The concert ends
to the rustle of a towel
against your skin
and there's a moment of amused envy
because it gets to soak you in
but I'm patient
awaiting my turn
now sitting on the edge
of the bed

I breathe in your silhouette
admire the shape of you
artfully framed by the door
there's something
in the way the light lies
on your shoulders
that makes me sigh
from someplace deep inside
where there's no explanation
for my fascination with you

The air between us thick
with the giddy scent
of your soap-fresh skin
and the few feet from bed to door
is an excruciating distance

I bid you come hither
(this is poetry, remember?)
and reach for your hand
to kiss each fingertip
trail my tongue across your palm
then guide it to my hair

My cheek first caresses
the smooth, hot skin
of your shameless desire
before I bathe it
in exuberant lust
drinking you in
while you pace your thrust
making me wait
teasing my frustration
until you finally allow me to taste
the milk of creation

Rearrange until I'm reclining
against the pillows
slowly part my thighs
my invitation for you
to quench your thirst too