Time trips (polished version)

What breath bites my neck,
bringing quivers
and you.
Tip to tip, only seconds,
and your lips to me.

I exhale.

Absorbed iris glancing porcelain,
fading not to light.
Creeping nail and tangled toe,
formed well as we tumble
through breeze and over springs,
our throats alive with vibrations and sentiment.
Closing teeth and hands,
That dip, that curve:
triumphs for the senses.
Closed lashes, soft flicks,
confined sounds. Oak creaks
with silent words.
Silken scatters, crumpled linens,
perfect rhythm.
Time trips, letting go…