I Tried Writing You A Poem, But I Got Distracted By The Paths of Your Legs

I wanted to write you a poem,

but instead, I couldn’t help but dream of your legs.

All the while being reminded of long lists, and shapely stars, silky sunsets and the rising ripple of our bed sheets.

Your legs made me smile, but as my eyes ventured onwards,

I lost my breath.

In your groin was placed a fertile crescent and the cool warmth carried by the sea.

It was there that I discovered the fusion of pinks and reds your blood would paint beneath your cheeks as its canvas.

Your breasts evoked memories of fruit bowls and children peeking their heads over walls,

While tides and sea levels rose in my mouth to prep my practiced lips.

I stopped to think of how I wanted to write you a poem,

but then I realized that my love for you
is beyond sensuous similes and sultry sentences.

So instead I prayed my body knew the words
my metaphors couldn’t mold.

And after, we simply smiled

as I examined the rouge your blood painted beneath your seamless opal cheeks.