Finger tips inching

Finger tips inching, the
distance between hands.
Watching them each,
touched once fasting.
Eyes finding eyes
where fingers tips can not.

Looking for gazes so
desperate to share.
Thought migration
longing but shared.

Eyes finding eye
inches apart
staring at you,
no distance at all.

@

Wine mixed

The colors of wine mix
with the drops of water
as the ice melts from your
bodies heat, and then
they roll from your body.

Wasting none of this taste
I will gobble up my share,
of wine from you.

Both are intoxicating.

@

Wake tonight

Please wake tonight and
bend down,
touch me with your eyes.
Let every evening hold a new surprise
so when I tumble into sleep
yours is the last
face that I’ll see.

@

My fingers.

My fingers follow paths
fashioned by beads of wine
as they plot a course down over you.

Did they know where they are going?
Or are they on a tempest to enjoy as
much of you as possible.

My fingers are so envious.
My lips jealous.

@

Places we laid

When songs don’t touch
those memories.
And scents don’t remind
me of your softness.
What has left my soul,
and journeyed away
still holds time and
place at bay.

I looked that night
for anything that
would bring back those
memories, those
flurries, those gasps.
You were gone.

Your smells,
no longer contained
have left and gone away.

Places we laid in our arms.

I’ve closed my eyes

I have closed my eyes
and shared a thousand
whispers with you.

A thousand times
my breath traced
the soft skin of
your neck.

A thousand times my lips
have spoken to
your ears alone.

Let me whisper soft
words against you.

One more time.
@