the po~et 16 (lost in his jungle)

Jack has conceded that she loves Paul. She loves the way his shoulders are broad and his waist is narrow. The way his back, butt and legs all meet displaying the length of his lean body--long, ready to be climbed.

She swung from his lines like tree vines in a jungle . Consumed in his literary world, anxiously anticipating where his words would take her next. Once she entered she knew that there would be no exodus and she didn't look for any. She wanted to be lost with him. Stranded in a place where the only meat necessary came from within, where the dampness of words satisfied the thirst and their meaning clothed the skin.