Persephone Plummeting

If I could get you alone with some trust and a marker,
I’d like to cover you in my thoughts and adjectives.
My favorite parts of your body would be inked with praise.
Words don’t exist for the exquisite sculpt of your shoulders, so I would trace them with my kisses instead.
I can’t color my adoration on your eyes,
Though I would stare into them in appreciation of a color that only God could replicate.
On your hands though,
I would speak of tenderness; of caresses weighted with care.
I want to write a sonnet on each of your arms,
And rhyme about all the times you broke my fall and kept me warm, and close.
I would trace my hand over your heart, because that’s how I like to sleep,
Then I’d fill it with “love”
Over and over again.
On your abdomen I would tell of the taste of sweat,
The scent of your sex pulling me in.
I would roll you over and write my deepest secrets and all the things I am so afraid to tell you on your back,
So you’d never see them, only feel them.
I would prop your legs on my shoulder to scribble all about a
Sinewy vigor that gives way to quivers when you lose yourself in me.
For the bottom of your feet,
I have a permanent maker and two words— 
“Come Back”
Then I would simply pray that they always remember.