A carpet of darkness shrouds around our meeting
with the nights stars shining in a familiar ardent dance.
The taste of vanilla spiced rum lingering on our moistened lips
as you lean from the room into the eve
taking a satisfied drag from your lit cigarette.
I watch and listen as you regale me with your anecdotes
of infamous hostel visits, Spanish residencies and inebriated accounts.
And smile in glee.
But I am curious to know just how many kisses we have exchanged
and how many I have placed upon you since we’ve met.
Embracing your neck, you lips, face and chest.
Adorning your body in affection as it should be.
Thoughts crossing my mind of a shaking accompaniment
to our earlier escapades of shaking thighs
and encapsulating sighs.
The street light reveals your smirk as though you can read my thoughts
stubbing out the remainder of your cigarette and joining me back in bed
in another loving embrace.
Quixotically Perfect 