Liquide

A trickle at first, dripping, dropping

slowly filling up

that urge, that need

sweat beads build and trickle and drip down

backs, thighs

I feel the pools in your hands, your lips

they are deep, they are dark,

they are full of that sticky, seeping

fluid

It starts small, and then becomes a

cascade

falling down into you with abandon

steady, yet you can't quite harness it

falling and falling, and pummeling and pummeling

'til I float

I relax

I drift