Don’t stand that way – disgusted.

You are not a jilted lover or a poor peasant.

You are not quite ready, yet. Your jewelry waits

on the bedstand. But I, my Love, cannot wait. I dream

of releasing your hair clip and catching your locks in my hands,

inhaling you in one deep, lengthy breath. My lips quiver as I imagine

them on our naked neck. That look on your face, as you lean into me won’t change,

and your hand with the ring will travel to my back, under my shirt. But that ring, it doesn’t belong to me.