Indulge Me

Don't turn off the light.
Don't hide from me.
I need to fit you to the template
I created in my mind in the long nights
dreaming of your sweet rain pouring
down on me, soaking though me,
washing me off my feet sliding down the
bank into the muddy water
and deep into the river
where light and sound
surrender to sleep and clenched arms
that hold only me.
Indulge me and comply,
when I hold your ankles,
roll you over and wonder
what cut that small dimple
on your right calf,
study your curves and color
to map you in my mind
to find my way back
to places I will visit again.
Freckles and birthmarks
and fine hair missed by the razor.
Skin creases where you bend
curling under my touch
knees touching breasts
hair fanned across the pillow,
exposing your neck
to my wicked kisses
and search for scars
along shoulder blades
where your wings
were cut free to let you
walk the earth.
Lie still and give me
my license to play
this field and exhaust myself
where round belly
turns to ribs and
rises to cocoa nipples
and a faint tan line
crossing from
shoulder to shoulder,
pulling me to soak you
with my own sweet rain,
hot from my soul,
painting you in colors
of my love,
staining the skin
like a tattoo
never to be washed off.