Inside are achings for pleasure colliding
swiftly with what mystifies and arrests attention
then lets it go.
Where?
I want to ingest you
but not to devour
to touch
in a way
lightly
that calls you to meet me
in dark corridors in struck moments
lit by breaths, kisses
awakened deeply
letting fly ghosts
in fluttering vibrations
rising through spines, throats
flowing easily meeting
in tensing and opened muscles
holding onto warmth
eyes flaring as recollections of feeling
pass behind then through them
and join the exchanging
soft damp perimeters
intently known
remembered and exploded.