Lost

He sneaks
In stealthy hot shadows
Across the night
To find me basking in my lightest cotton
In the streams of amber and spice summer
Where I've gone to skin
Under waves of starlit tree branches and tossed netting
Fanned in an incense drugged air.
I moan the music of a careless, needy want
The siren song of an unpossessed woman
Calling my watcher closer
Reaching for his hands, oh, his hands
To paint me in gold, in butterflies, sweet honied stolen moments.
Writhing into lips that sip
And hands that cover, dry skin against my damp
Pulling me from weary, dregs of clinging day
As his mouth finds every crest and pulse point
Of my breathless impatience
Until I grab handfuls
Of his thick dark hair
And beg.