Sculpted

His long and thick curly black hair hung gloriously on his blameless nape down to his shoulders; he was gifted.

Blessed with an oval face, carved in refined edges; I swore I saw God on Earth!

And the eyebrows envied by many a times; they clung comfortably over his eyes. It sparkled when it saw love and kinked when it heard indifference.

His beard was groomed neatly while I squirmed at its masculinity. And I wondered how it felt like for his skin to be cuddled with such breathe and warmth.

I didn’t like to brag but his eyes too were a deli!

Imagine getting lost in a field of strawberries; I desired to pick some on my way to the waterfalls, I ate them and I was completely consumed.

I thought of resting but his nose wrestled; hitting me in all the right places.  

I begged for him to stop but I was only met by his lips. They were rare and raw.

Arched like a bow and arrow; dewd, blood-filled, soft and plump.

His lips stung like wild berries but placid like the early morning touch of wind.

Then I smiled because I saw him open his mouth for me. There; hidden in the mist of August, his white teeth smiled at me too.

And I fell in his arms—smitten. 

His lean body draped mine.

It was a consummation of his and my world.