Fingers

Allow me to stay with you in bed for a while,
as you uncover my half-cocked smile,
inhaling your laughter before
I shield my black teeth
with my fingers.
Skimming my free hand across your chest.
Touching my equally veiled toes to yours.
Please.
Before I'm woken by clanking dishes,
and it's known
the shadows on the edge of my bed aren't your legs.
And my clasped hands are just that,
my own,
waiting for you to pull them apart.
And rescue my palms with kisses.
Let me love.
Still.