BURN

The way your mustache thickens on both edges like overgrown flowers. The soft hairs of your beard, tender on my skin when my kisses graze it. Your neck with warm scents of neon amber and coconut. I love tracing my fingers along the ridges of your abs, counting the numbers of years it’s taken to build them. I think of your skin in blue. When I look to the skies and the waters, your darkened skin, given by your ancestors, glows like bioluminescence in the eyes of my mind. It’s the way you kiss me softly, then with burning desire, as if you were drinking after being parched in a desert. Hedonism takes over, and you’re stripped bare to animalistic instincts. I can smell the palpability of your desire like burning coal. Your lips leaving embers of the same desire, begging to be reignited. “Sweetheart" you mumble beneath your breath, “I got carried away” you say.

— Tolú