when your hand glides
past your ears
to brush away your hair
and then pauses
to let your fingers
drag along
the base of your neck
i sigh and grind
my big wild smile
cause i know
the curve that slopes
to meet your shoulder
the way it flows
and meets your
fingers
i know it well
its where my mouth
rests easy
i bite my bottom lip
as i calculate
my hands next move
when you lean forward
slightly bent at the waist
and I catch the scent
that lingers long
after the taste
the one that
brings me to my knees
and puts a smile on my face
when you sigh
riddle the complexities
of life
and it miscellaneous
intricacies
when you declare
knowledge is the nectar
and we are its fruit
and life isn’t as meaningless
as is its pursuit
yes, its these things
that are my triggers
i feel it necessary
to spill them
from my fingers
compelled to record
and document
trials and errors
r.matlack 