It's been months and I still have your dimples dented round my mind like a steel door round a tree. with you I felt five and fifty at the same time like pooping my pants and holding your hand. Like a pirate who'd stumbled on the spot marked X & landed head first in a well of pearls. God and the angels burned so brightly in my lungs, melting my shadows around you. I wanted to drown in you suffocate in your breath. and this is not love.
The tantalising trip wire
between curiosity and infatuation
is fraught with wagers
of good intentions
and questionable proximity
Infatuation is ice cream on a summer’s day
Tantalising on the lips of lovers
It melts just as fast.