His dark hair felt like a warm summer breeze.
Fingers ran though it. I begged time to freeze.
His skin, I knew, tasted of the ocean:
Of salt, and sun, and some odd emotion.
His eyes had a sparkle, a worn out cliché.
A weight in his hands, it asked me to stay.
His breath had been heavy and heartbeat fast.
I stayed in his bed willing the morning to last,
But only too soon the morning was past.