On the consistency of personality

[Perhaps it is not erotic after all or perhaps it bridges the erotic and the non-erotic. After all, is the truth of being not erotic as well as philosophic.]

Every encounter a dance
in which I loose control
to the extent that you allow.

When you disallow,
my bursting exuberance
provides me the regrets for what I am
and I dance more cautiously
to avoid the hangover
from our unrestrained encounters.

When you allow
my fanciful flights
to find the fleetingly felt
fullness of myself,
and when I soar at the outer edges of safety,
I rejoice in you as I rejoice in life
knowing fully how different we are.

But I will be different
around you from day to day
affected by the mix
we bring to our frolicking mutuality
at each point in the series of instances
that sums our relationship.

Even as, from person to person
feelings vary
and the limits of the dance
shift and shape our encounters
and we catch the glinting colours
from different facets
of our mysterious identities.

Sometimes to rejoice,
other times to feel the burden of being.