She’s a Woman to Me

It’s the way she smells,

like fresh flowers, like soapy bubbles on a green garden,

like sweet strawberries.

It’s her eyes,

how they sparkle, how they allow me access to everything else,

how they me a story.

It’s the hair,

how it covers my face, and smells like a bouquet,

how I long to pull it,

hard enough that her neck bends.

It’s how she’s a woman to me,

 

She’s soft,

she whispers in my ear,

she licks my neck,

she giggles,

It is how she holds my hand, like she is never going to see me again,

It is how she wants me.

 

She wants me, more than anything else,

she buries me in significance,

so deep I can’t find my way out,

I don’t want to find my way out.

It is how I feel wanted by her,

it is how she’s a woman with me,

gentle,

attentive.

 

This is the idea of her,

She’s way more,

She’s scarily way more,

She’s fading.

 

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