(another piece from my senior project)

her eyelids gently drop
to narrow this sultry aperture;
his eyes are getting dark
and she is finding herself lost.

there is a path out of here:
a trembling trail,
down his chest, to rest
above his waist
and her hands can feel
these ridges in his hips
and she can nearly taste his lips,
with her heart up in her throat.

and as the sun is rising
over skyscrapers,
to kiss the grass with dewy rays of light,
she brushes a sleepy hand—
once—
through her hair,
and bids him nothing,
but goodnight.