Taste of Patience

I like the smell of you,
The sky before the shower,
Before you are next to me.
I like to look at you,
Inhaling like a red balloon,
And exhaling like a limp steak.
You remind me of something.
I like the look of you.
Your sound,
I like that too.
It sounds like a shape,
A sultry evening,
Of underwater escapades.
And how precious water droplets
Stick to you,
Like promises.

You are the teaspoon of mischief,
On early urban restaurant tables,
Clinking out coded messages,
To the table next.
Do we know us?

Testing, tasting.