Poetry by Rowan Evans

Let me read your body like a love letter,
Each curve a sentence, each sigh a soft whisper.
I’ll taste the scent of your skin, a fragrance of devotion—
A language written in breath, in touch, in silence.
My lips press softly to your words,
Tracing the edges of your story like a lover’s hand,
Fingers gliding over your spine—
Each curve a line, each pulse a chapter unfolding.

Let me rest in the spaces between your pages,
Head nestled where your heart beats in rhythm with mine.
I’ll read the spaces where words fade,
Lips brushing your skin like the flicker of ink on paper,
My tongue tasting the punctuation of your pleasure.
Your body, a manuscript waiting to be understood—
A story that lives and breathes in the quiet moments we share.

My fingers dance like blind poets,
Reading your pleasure in the braille of your skin—
Every goosebump a verse, every touch a phrase,
I trace the climax of our tale, where desire flows like ink,
Our bodies entwined, our hearts bound by the script.
Each sigh you release, a pause in our love’s verse,
Each breath, a paragraph we write in the dark,
A narrative composed without a single word spoken.
Our story, written in every touch, never to be forgotten.