Enough of sad poems...

Standing before the mirror,
fastening your earrings,
your scent blooms like flowers in warm air.
Your beauty pulls me in, effortless, magnetic.

My hands settle on your waist.
Our eyes meet in the glass—
you smile and whisper, “No… not now.”
I smile back, knowing time has already surrendered.

I love the softness of your skin.
A kiss finds your bare neck.
You tilt your head to the left—an invitation.
My hand cups your face as my lips trace
from neck to shoulder, slow and deliberate.

You step closer.
You feel me behind you.
Your body moves back into mine,
your head falling gently away,
our breaths heavy, hearts racing.

We both know—
we’re going to be late for dinner.