Nice

You came to me between the hours
and the alcohol
that drenched us.
Instantly hoping for your hands
I waited.
Sprinkled silver through my fingers
the first time like magic,
ravaged.
Unable to reason through
a fog of need,
wanting touch
after touch,
after touch.
Late nights made
late mornings,
and afternoon sheets ripped
off bodies in hot desire.
Bold-faced proclamations
obviously not your style,
and I fell.
Fell hard for dry wit
and unshaven cheeks,
and I think I like you.
I think this feels nice.