Magic

Sigh.

Fingers - traveling, roaming -

It’s almost three.

Some intertwined with yours,

others wanting to break free.

Sigh.

With your heat against my lips

and their fire against my back,

I’m torn between lust and wanderlust,

barreling down a wet, slippery

not-so-careful track.

Sigh.

As this moment together

tumbles into the spell of a lifetime,

I finally rest my head against

the heart of your scars

and realize now

why magic is so quiet. 

~N.V.