desiderium | t. riddle

xx. 12.04.41

i know his face
        as though i might have sculpted him myself
my very own galatea,
carved ivory blessed (punished) by venus
into life
                from his milky smooth cheekbones
                        to the cocoa lower lashes that curve elegantly down to crown them
                                  i can picture the unsettling hunger in his dark chocolate irises in every corner of my mind
                                          even the furrowing and smoothing of his flawless brows
                                                  & the way it pulls his brown butterfly lashes to curve into different paths

i know his lips. they quirk. they find crooked, mocking angles. they find rage in the downturn of their own edges. they find dull acquaintances with the barest of upward curves. they never curve around the teeth behind their lovely prison walls.

i only wish i could commit to memory what it would look like if he smiled, truly smiled. the kind that might cause crinkles in his skin to take the curve of eyelashes in folds next to his eyes. the kind that would make his demanding rosewater lips stretch from one high cheekbone to the other. might it even provoke a dimple or two to peek out from the apples of his cheeks?

if it does even one of those things, i don't think i will be able to cuff my desire to get precariously closer any longer.

SERPENS