Prophecy

 

She gives me her palm to read.

I trace a line

from the tip

of her index finger

to the flickering

nervous pulse

in her wrist.

Then along the pale skin

of her arm.

 

I climb the rise

of her breasts

and traverse

her elegant shoulder.

I tenderly

stroke her throat

and chin

and cheeks.

 

I touch the curve of her lips

then softly kiss

her mouth

with a prophecy.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Casey Baugh