Hum-buzz

of a throat

full of unshed sentences,

buds, just shy

of bloom.

Words spill, wishful

from your lips

soft-shelled and wanting.

I cup my hands

beneath

your chin

dink dink dink

they pool, 

sweetly ripened

with potential,

passionate.

I slip them into my mouth.

Cradled

in my jaw

roll them under my tongue

savored,

tantalizing titillation

clinking carefully along

the backs of my teeth

tink tap ding

delectably daring, dusky

in color;

a peach,

just at its prime, plucked

flesh juicy-shining

I let the sheen drip drop

down my neck, bared

for you.

When you talk,

building me houses of heartache

with your hope

I sigh.

The color

of my breath

is that of your eyes.