Gravity

 

Gravity
Cinnamon skin glowing under streetlight hum,
your laugh cracks like dry wood in the dark.
Bruises bloom purple on my ribs,
truth sticks like honey and smoke between us.You flare—eyes wildfire, voice sharp thunder—
I stand still, tasting danger like copper on my tongue.
Warm skin slides over warm skin,
hearts thudding like trapped birds in our chests.Gravity moments:
you pull me down, down,
weightless fall into your heat.
What rises crashes—
but I keep orbiting back to you.Freckles like scattered ash across your collarbone,
scars I trace with slow fingertips,
thunder softens to warm breath against my throat.If the sky ever cuts you loose,
will you drift through the black
straight back to my hands?Short. Intense. Full of texture, heat, and pull.