Slow Burn
The room holds its breath while the window seam leaks city noise,
your laugh lands low in my chest like a match that refuses to catch
until I cup both hands around it,
and we stand close enough for the pulse in your throat to set my rhythm
close enough for the zipper’s patient descent to sound like footsteps
in a quiet building at midnight,
and when I graze the edge of your shoulder my moan comes back to me
on your inhale as if air learned how to speak,
as if every yes we’ve wanted is waiting behind your teeth
for the right pressure to open it soft and slow
without breaking the seal.
(Oh baby)
I circle without hurry, orbit tightened by heat
and the way your fingertips claim territory on my back,
mapping a route in crescent moons and electricity,
and the lights are dim enough for shadows to pretend they’re hands
while my mouth writes cursive at your jaw,
each letter a promise not to rush,
not to skip the part where your breath catches like a page turning in wind
and when I find the dip of your waist it answers like a dial tone
that only I know how to call,
and every pause between us fills with a hum
that doesn’t need a name, just a direction
just a next.
(Mmmm)
Closer
not yet
warmer
not yet
teach me your pace
name every step
slow burn
then boom
but not yet
(Ohhhhhhh)
I memorize the geography of you in quarter-speed,
the ridge of your hip where my thumb rests like it’s been assigned,
the hollow at your throat where breath collects before it breaks free
when I linger,
the place that turns my voice into gravel
when you pull me in by a fist of shirt and ask for more
in a whisper that tastes like late fruit and secrets kept well,
and my patience turns into a slow engine purring
through a long tunnel of want
that doesn’t need speed to arrive.
Closer
not yet
warmer
not yet
teach me your pace
name every step
slow burn
then boom
but not yet
(Ohhhh god)
You ride the edge with me, that narrow rail
where every breath is counted and cashed,
where your thigh finds the inside of mine
and writes a sentence my knees agree to underline,
and we trade control like dancers who know exactly
where the drop lives
and refuse to fall before the cue,
and your nails leave careful music down my side
while my teeth sketch a border at your shoulder that says right here
and your answering laugh says do it again
and your hips translate do into please
until the word itself starts glowing.
(Oh god, oh god, oh god)
Closer
not yet
warmer
not yet
teach me your pace
name every step
slow burn
then boom
but not yet
(Oh fuck yes yes yes yes yes)
(Oh my fucking wow)
And then it’s all at once—the room, the noise
the slow becomes a flood,
and we move like one wave cresting without a shore in sight,
heat stacked on heat and the gasp you give
when there’s no more distance left to close,
and I’m inside every heartbeat now,
every yes stacked like bricks in a wall we built together
and broke on purpose,
and the world outside can wait
because right now we are the only sound,
the only spin,
the only proof that patience pays in a currency
only two people share,
and when the wave finally lands it lands in both of us at once,
same breath, same air,
a long exhale that says again
even while we’re still shaking from now.
Oh yes
..
Boom.
Boom.