Rain on the Windowsill

The clouds swell with rain,

dropping a rhythm of beats on the window pane.

I stare and gaze into your eyes

while your fingers coax soft sighs along the edges of my body.

I look deep within your soul,

finding comfort in your darkness,

knowing I am the only one

who can touch those hidden parts of you.

You teach me of erogenous zones,

and together we discover which one is my favorite.

When you kiss me,

right in the inner place where my neck flows into my collarbone,

that is my favorite touch of yours.

I trace my fingers across the tattoo along your back,

and we stay in bed, curved into each other’s bodies,

feeling the warmth of each other’s breath,

not needing to speak,

simply knowing our emotions and thoughts

are intertwined as one.

You take your time teaching me

things I never knew my body could do.

I feel these first experiences with you

are a dream come true,

how you charted every hidden contour

as though the whole day were a vow

to know, and to know again.

My body swells like the clouds above.

Your sweat pools onto my skin,

feels like summer rain,

each drop a secret signature of musk and rose,

a language only our skin could speak.

We remain in bed,

listening to the rain on the windowsill,

in no rush, with nothing to do,

just the stillness of our shadows

making love.

Sincerely Krystle Kelley