pocket reverie: petals caught between pages

I want to fold myself around him
like a journal around a secret—
as if the wind might listen and confess
to a stranger,
the vulnerability of his caress.

I want to keep the warmth of him
the way petals keep sunlight,
a soft, shimmering memory
of rays beneath a moonlit revery.

Let me leave an imprint on his skin
like petals leave on pages
their faint hue,
and rain on petals leave
its gentle morning dew.

Let me hold the ghost of his touch—
like paper keeps the ghost of perfume,
a lingering sweetness,
a delicate faintness,
a whispered languid rush.

I’d unfold him
the way the sun coaxes flowers to bloom
each unfurl of a petal—pondering
a surrender to sweet wandering.
Beneath, fluttering fingers—
playful hips,
a tender press of lips.

I’d hold him firmly,
between wanting
and wanting more.
Each breath, teasingly taunting.

Before the world edges in—
in an isolated nook,
I’d seal the shape of him against me,
he, like a flower caught between pages of a book.