Laughter still lingers
between plates and crumbs,
the hum of the kitchen light
catching the steam of our breath.
You taste like warmth and pale ale,
like the comfort that only
comes after a full day
and a full heart.
I do a little shimmy,
some mix of joy and surrender,
and dart to the other side of the counter.
I don’t know,
maybe it’s the way your eyes
turn soft when they land on me,
or how the air thickens
each time we find each other again.
Another kiss,
and the world narrows
to this room,
this pulse,
this hunger that isn’t for food
but for the way you make it feel
to be known and wanted,
and full.