Hush

Hands; that of cotton, freshly washed.
Stroking, but with slight pressure; uneasy.
Warm like pavement on summers day
Caressing my back like it's common practice.

Lips; that of rainslicked concrete
Sliding, but with slight pressure; passionate.
Hard against my mouth with urgency
Closing every door to the rest of the world.

Tongue; that of cold, wet stone
Wrapping, but with slight pressure; teaching.
Taking the time to feel and take it all in
To show, and to learn, commit to memory.

Face; that of sandpaper
Scratching, but with slight pressure; urging.
Waiting, expecting utterance of the words I choke on.
Your breath on my ear coaxing them out of my locked lips.

Words; that of rose petals
Floating, but with slight pressure; demanding
The knowing nod you give moves my head with yours,
You wipe my tears from your cheek as you depart.