and oh so delicately upon your skin. A warm caress.
That brightness that wrinkles your nose
and produces a full body sneeze. The breezy breath
of floral fresh.
Would that I could be the conflagration burning
beneath your breast, that pounding muscle,
in your chest.
Wish I were the dream that feeds you life,
a simmering whimper escaping your lips,
as you succumb to the ministrations of another.
Strangle the senses drawing them tighter,
binding them to the urgency of me,
who wants only to be the man you see.
Would that I could be the silky comfort
that wraps you in sleep: safe, secure.
Would that I could exist as a languishing touch
resting against your hand,
cradled by your love as the babe in need.
@Hollie June 15, 2012