it's the little things

Your hand squeezing the back of my neck,

expressing your claim,

My head bowed, laying on your lap,

Your fingers twisting though my hair,

I am yours.

Pushing me against the wall,

Possessing my face in the palm of your hands,

Trapping my gaze with your eyes,

I am yours.

Touching to guide me, to quiet me,

Holding gently the curve of my waist and hip,

Pulling me back to you as you pound your heat into me,

I am yours.

Circling the sting on my reddened bottom with the soft touch of your hand,

brushing the tear from my cheek,

I am yours.

Your hand on my throat,

Your fingers in my mouth,

I am yours.

Walking through the door at the end of the day,

I am yours.