Sweet Nothings, Part 4

IV
You wandered into the jungle of my embrace wearing
sandpaper camouflage. You only know minefield love,
and I only a bombsweep dance-step. You fit me like a
prescription cap past the click as we twist-turn our attraction
sideways. Your sweat is the sweetest perfume you could wear,
so let me paint you with it. Our held hands and linked fingers are
wings and feathers. I climb boughs to pluck your wide,
grapefruit smiles, that you will plant the seeds they cradle.
Smooth the coarse bark of the trees these pods spout.