His Touch

Secure, I lay waiting.
My senses held captive to rationed desire,
like a dark prison,
Infinite and exposed under overcast sky.
I beg the clouds to release the sun;
The skim of skin that enkindles my feeling.

I writhe as my body begs for more,
Like the parched Saharan sand
Praying for rain.
The weather holds me at its mercy.
The warm wind across my naked body;
A prelude to thunder.
His touch is our electricity,
The break in the clouds.