Secret Desire

 
 
 
Here, in my room, waiting.  Silent as I close the door, turn out the light, turn out the world.
I feel presence from behind, reaching to touch my clavicle, soothe vagal impulse to turn. 
I feel hands, supple, strong, heat through in contact; healing sacred touch fortified with love.
We kiss; swirl like cotton candy, sweet, sticky, surreal. 
We touch into solidity, each synapse response exquisite field of permeability. 
We taste. 
There are no words.
 
I know I said (I prayed):
 
To be adored beyond embarrassment,
I who can do no wrong, because beloved.
To be gifted reflective critique.
To fall securely into open arms and heart.
Each blessed day to start
gazing into shining eyes that see so deeply,
so wisely, my precious wondrous being.
What I have taught myself severely
I can never have.
Too bad.  So sad.  Can’t let fantasy
keep me from my daily dance with debt.
My perfect
love
never to be met.
 
We meet secretly, in places that can’t be mapped or tethered. 
Embrace in rapid burst, seductively slow motion to subtly trace desire.
Emotively charged ecstasy, pulsing electrically beyond space/time. 
Fluid majesty, gently shaping eternity.  We are ouroboros, ancient fantasy, modern physics.
This is the charm I need to cast the spell, to open the fortress.  I become energy that feeds
on ambrosia of essence.  I become beloved.
.
.
.
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