the silence of your body, long and lean,
and the view of midnight across your skin:
everything you are indicates awareness,
brings me closer in than i was before.
questions i have not even thought to ask
spring from your fingertips, burrow into me
and drag the marrow from my bones in answer:
yes, yes, i will, please make me.

the incline of affections,
a slope of knowing what physicality can mean:
you slide along, gathering speed
and flying into the axis of my blood.
the heart is body-driven and soul-attached,
a messenger of needs beyond the mundane:
you creep along the curves of my body,
send chills up my spine.
i am at a loss to keep you from my skin,
pent up against the mental need
to be pure, or sane, or something.
your hands create an arc of need,
and my back arches in response.