Paper Sheets
My fingers found her scars
As I shed her shirt,
Pushing her up against
The bookshelves
And memorizing
The shape of her
Open mouth
Against mine.
Labyrinths rose
From the cloth
Across her breasts,
While the valleys
Of her thighs
Spread before me.
I felt her fingers
Tracing my own scars
As her legs
Invited me in
And held me,
Not entirely
Against my will.
Books fell like rain
Around us as
Each pushed
The other
To the edge,
Rolling in verse,
Until the words
Became everything.
