dip & turn

fingertips drag slow
upon this creamy skin
sending shivers down my spine...
every hair stands on end
tingling as they pass
and a certain smile
plays at the edges
of these blushing lips...
Those fingers dance along
in their way,
dipping here,
rising there,
mapping each inch
of this imperfect being...
imperfect,
yes,
but you don't seem to mind...
Blissful looks
in those mottled eyes,
seeing so much more
than I ever could...
Beautiful,
you say,
though I cannot
see it.
And yet,
those fingers
worship this skin,
and I smile
yet again