A subtle swindle

Fingers that tip shiver
a halt
she trembles

Lips that blow breeze
a breather
she frowns

Eyes that wire lust
a whisper
she teeters

She tries not to yield
the other defers

Amid the surrender
the breath of respite

The hands that shake firm
a pause
she elicits:
— We should grab a drink sometime.
— Certainly. Let’s just agree not to talk about chess.