A gag of sweetness drowns knuckle brushed against cheek. He will consider this. Eyes lap maple syrup pooled. She steps out of both. She will ponder illumination. Her hair shimmers as the cloth brings it to be back lit. The colour calls for sweetness. The feather responds to billow. Sharp she remarks it is not the feather that is sweet. He notes the texture a sweetness is. She wants to ease the tensions with grainy honey thick spreadable in swirl of peanut butter smooth. Her mouth is dry. His eyebrows meet. She wants to stroke the place with three fingers there. She wants it all to be dry.