Tease

You tease. And you kiss.

But you don’t let me kiss you.

You hold my head still,

And you slowly draw in. 

Butterfly kisses, or licks

On my cheek, on my lips,

On my tongue, but you don’t let me

Move in for the kill.

This must be what it means

To be held in one’s thrall.

You tease, and you kiss.

Down my arm, as you hold me

Firmly but not hard, just to keep

Me in reach. Your hand cups the nape

Of my neck very gently

But as I said, firmly. You

Hold me in place.

Your left hand moves its way

Down my side, round my waist

To the small of my back

And draws me in to you

Till our bodies touch.

I can feel your desire

And as you grab handfuls of hair

On my head and pull it right back

I know very well that you

Can see mine.

You tease. And you kiss.

But this time it’s different.

You finally stop teasing.

And kiss me like you should.

With passion, with vigour,

With feeling, intensity,

With lust and desire

And an audible smile.

(I knew you would, eventually.)