Slide your hand down
with glacial slowness,
inching your way to my secrets,
drawing gasps with feather light touch.

Think of me, touching you,
tasting you, surrounding you,
stealing your anxieties -
replacing them with memories
of when we were one.

Do you feel me?

Sex is more than intimacy,
more than ecstasy.
It is a deep complicity,
a tactile conspiracy.

Scratch me, pull me,
open me to your needs.
Hug me, hurt me, hold me,
But never release me.

Do you feel me?

The stillness of dark
is mirrored in the throes of passion.
Exchange my breath for yours,
heat my core with your desire.
Make of me your meal.

Truth is not a majority decision,
and tho I speak with mortal tongue,
together we can sing
as angels, making angels weep.

Do you feel me?

Rub of my flesh, pull at my hair.
Turn me over, lift me up, hold me down.
I will do the same for you.
Fill me up as you hollow me out.
When you are near, I burn with fever.

As the key fits snugly into the lock,
and silken veils fall away with a whisper,
gears mesh, wheels turn, Life is lived
as it was meant to be -
a fistful of balloons, soaring ever higher.

Do you feel me?