The Lady and the Leopard

Thoughts run along the front of my teeth with the tip of my tongue.
The tender hollow where your pulse beats
Below the hollow well of a missing adams apple.
slightly
slowly
Just enough to notice.
Pieces of you drag along my scalp with the blades of my too pale fingertips.
The body made for straining and sweat
Every hard and gentle angle of your protracted frame
So incredibly
And uncompromisingly
Sexual to me.
Our hips would fit together
Like sharp pieces of the same puzzle.
Let that eloquent tongue fall lazily
Tracing the curves of my flesh.
Darling
Let these fingernails carve the evidence
Into your leopard parchment back.
Press hard against me
Grind and move until the world is ruined around us.
After all, you still stutter when we speak.