the scent of your skin

A new entry to the Fields of Arbol, but without a name or a picture to accompany it, as I got shy. And, I am being a gentleman.

the scent of your skin

I would wonder of the scent of your skin,
soft and surrendered, flesh to mesh
with memories long forgotten as though
yesterday was the illusion and this moment
is truth. Would you smile if I kissed you,
really kissed you, not some friendly touch,
tentative, but a kiss that throws caution
to the wind and risks a brisk slap in the face
and the disgrace of being banished
from your presence, like being cast into hell
by a beautiful goddess of love, angry
at the impudence of a mortal man
daring to wonder about the scent of her skin
and how far, how long, how strong I could take
a trespassing kiss, unleashed like a dream.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.