Nine. Love you like a love song

This is a poem about lust.

When you talk
I watch the shape of
your fingers as you
move your hand and
wonder what they would
feel like inside me,
curling against my most
private spot with your
wrist between my
thighs and your
mouth on mine, your
chest pressed so close
that it's hard to breathe.

I can hear the way
you grunt against
my collarbone,
feel the way you
roll your hips
against my thigh
for friction even though
it must be too slippery
now, with my hands
touching your hips,
moving you back and
forth against me.

I want to press my
mouth to your fingers,
your neck,
your shoulder blades,
your breasts,
that quiet space
between your legs,
and watch the way you
unwind when you
finally let go, when
you are searching for
pleasure in another.