Temporal Lapse

As my fingers explore the ridges of your smooth back.
Dancing around the water droplets that scamper down your skin. 

My fingers become aquatinted with your yellow soaked hair. 

As I embrace you, the wet fabric flutters to the ground. 

Your lips become a capital, a lure drawing me in.
Only to evaporate in gas, mist, smog in the memory that is you.