sun by Tanya Cochran

sun

by Tanya Cochran

he sweetly

drags his fingers

over my arms,

combing the tiny

hairs that stand

at attention at his

presence.

The heat of his

hand - silent

and still

in it

in its home -

radiates my skin,

penetrates,

and runs

like honey

through my veins -

slow, thick,

paralyzing.