Words love her the way a soft bottom lip
loves to be tugged
by kisses less about goodbye than about confession.
They glide around her hips like brand new skinny jeans
sliding all the way down
into soft leather boots with a heel so high her walk turns
into a red-hot double-take as wicked as the smolder of her gaze.
Words turn her cheeks pink
as the passion of missing someone even one second too long,
and they tease her into giggles of pretending
she doesn’t understand
hidden implications or all the words best left unsaid.
Avatar Review - Summer 2014