Pinnacle

Oh, my dear,
I wonder if you even know
that the honey
from your lips
hits like the blow
of a sharply smooth spear
which knows no fear
thrown in the middle
of the ear
to dote
like the note
in the back
from a fiddle -
because baby,
just like your hands on my waist
and my neck
nothing's ever gonna feel
or taste
quite like this
if we read my heart's will.

1º de março de 2020