It is a game of stealth, my eyes thieving a glance at you, yours catching mine.
The air is robbed of space by a tingling heat; the lungs of air, by a crime.
It is a game lost, when the sense is on my neck-of you walking towards this defeat.
The loss is not an ordinary one, when your heat through all those layers, seeps right into me.
It is a game surrendered, when your palm comes down to my waist and your mouth down to my nape.
Our eyes both close- a submission of sorts, and a realization that futile are the drapes.
It is a game of unbridled haste- the layers snatched off of bodies, nails suddenly raking the skin down.
The eager lips crashing against each other, the frantic mind a litany of your name, and the senses drown.
It is a game of gasps and breaths, when one hand presses me against you, the other southbound.
An unthinking vacillation of air between my mouth and your skin, fists in your hair, pulling like a hound.
It is a game out of control, when your lips decide to follow your hands.
Our heads croon- dipping and leaning, we’re perfectly directionless and the bothered thoughts slip out like sand.
It is a game of noises and sounds, a curse, a moan, a nonsensical string of them- far from tame.
Your hums reverberate, your kisses on me mark, and I still don’t know why we take each others’ name.
It is a game of music, I think, when you stir back up and your fingers on me seem to play a crazy song.
The searing eyes write the words, the tugging lips and teeth tell the tune, heaven knows for how long.
It is a game of constellations, I begin to believe, for stars are what I see.
How can I pull you closer, how can I fill up any more space, you can’t shine any brighter when you’re already in me.
It is a game that no longer makes sense, your forehead in my hair, your voice in my ear telling me you’re there.
The world has boiled down to our bubble- and we break, break and send flames through our bodies, sparks into the air.
It is a game of the places that still touch, when bodies crumple down to a heap and the mist slowly parts.
Sweltering eyes still meet to tell the stories untold, the fists still clench, the hearts rule- dismissing the brain to the dark.
It is a game for players just like us, the ones who play and cry and yearn and while.
We’re masters of these guilty tricks, the worlds wait to see- who is to win this game of crimes and who is to smile?