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