Darling, I am a patient man

My little love, I see the way you look at me through the corners of the buildings, behind the edges of books and the crude words you put between us. When I touch you, you shiver, when I brush my fingers across your arm the blood rushes to colour cheeks and when you come to finally realise your feelings for me I will be waiting, starved on the traces you leave behind. You are just as hungry as I am and I sit by allowing your eyes to take its fill but you don’t need to steal crumbs, I welcome you to the table to feast — give yourself to me.

What a silly game this facade we put up is, when the truth is a shining, crimson, crisp fruit to be plucked and bitten into to release its full pleasures. You think you can hide from me, behind those clothes, those cutting words, but I see your eyes and they’re far more truthful; they show you in my bed, naked, hair messy, sex and my scent perfuming your warm skin.

Why deny yourself of this hunger?

You glare at me but in truth I think

my dear, you beg to be kissed by a man who knows how to kiss a woman like you right.

Keep avoiding me then.

After all, patience is the virtue of a good hunt and I am motivated to win the prize.