Any chance I get, I run my fingers through your hair.
They are dark, shiny webs of love for me,
Arresting a vibrant magic in their dark lair
That many, if not all, fail to see.

I see you comb them after a shower
And each strand glistens like dew;
I want to put my face in that wet bower
And kiss the cow licks washed anew.

When you rest your head in my lap,
I put the tips of my fingers in the crown,
I am a bee caught in a Venus Trap
And nothing can settle this body down.

I can smell your hair when you’re away,
I can feel it move between my fingers,
The texture and lust with me just stay
As the feel of it on my lips lingers.