Present in your closeness,
Without sight or sound
I am there, and you
Feel the soft fire?
Touching without touching,
The ache of closeness,
skin rising to skin.
Thirst for the brush of fingertips.
Drink in my touch,
Fingers on the back of your neck,
A thumb tracing the frame of your face.
Self swallowed up in lips --
dangerous sensation --
a finger intent on knowing you,
a heart intent on remembering.
Breathe living fire,
warm moist craving to be deeper inside.
Live and die in a kiss, and feel
Hands exploring your shape.
Your hands, mine.
Fingers reading your skin
like a path to life,
a poem of salvation.
Over every line, every curve,
Grasping at your neck, sliding down
lips sliding away from mine, eyes closing,
see the world whirling away
sense swept up in sensation.
My fingertips on your shoulders, touching,
traversing bone and muscle,
taking in your scenic form.
Your fingertips, my fingertips.
Hear, but somehow feel by hearing,
soft sucking sounds of kisses
mapping your neck.
Heart, soul and nerve intertwining,
pulse and push of bodies and needs.
Draw in breath as you feel my hands cross to your belly,
pressing soft, then hard, responding
to your breath, sharp and deep.
Fresh and burning kiss takes hold of your mouth,
swallowing each gasp.
Your fingers -- my fingers --
wide apart, tracing ten paths up your belly,
traveling soft sensitive places.
Hands, hands, wrapping over your breasts,
around, under, beside, lips
devouring mouth and chin and neck,
haphazard kisses, wayward breathing,
Thumbs pressed into your nipples,
yours, mine, twisting and taking
holding and touching,
following your feelings.
Feel the grasp of my fingers on your nipples,
one hand moving down, stroking
intimate light spaces
warm, soft thighs,
caressing and touching,
and fingers slipping
to the center of your sensation,
touching wetness, sliding
sense bodies and hearts crying out
with sweat and desire
present with you.