Underneath, I question;
Temper the mind so that the
body does not shake.
Resplendent, he would
I read it in his hands instead.
I can’t understand
why he feels what he feels
with the palms of his hands
against my skin,
but I am raw
along for the ride.
The journey my body takes
when reveled in by another is,
in a word,
I feel the feather duster tickle
when he wants to tease, and the
hard press of his desirous fingertips
while exploring the point where my breath
Inside, a firestorm of inquiry begins
and I start to wonder
how a body so staid
and a mind so mutable
find the ability to survive together.
Words of accusation rip
through the fabric of my rapture
and the facade begins to tumble.
I want to hold on as long as I can,
because I know,
it all will end.
I have to agree.