Unbutton me
slowly
not because you must,
but because you enjoy the undoing.
Let your fingers linger
at each clasp,
as if patience
were a kind of hunger
and you’ve decided
to feast on anticipation.
Pull the fabric aside
like a curtain
revealing something sacred.
Let your mouth follow
the path your hands started
down my throat,
across my collarbone,
lower,
lower,
to the heat that rises
just for you.
I want you to explore me
like a man discovering
his favorite sin.
I want you to make a map
of my reactions
the gasp,
the ache,
the low sound I only make
when I’m touched
just right.
unbutton me.
until there is nothing between
your hunger and mine.
