klutz.geek.nz

to a faraway muse

I want to hold you
bury my nose in that beautiful soft hair of yours and press you close and never let go and inhale the scent of your presence, your nearness
it’s a drug you know, I wake up craving your touch and your smile and the earthy sour-plum aroma of your softly-carpeted skin

I want to kiss you
tear your clothes off you and ravish you and survey your body with tongue and nails and teeth and feel you arch against me and cry out
those blossoming bruises marking you as thoroughly mine, so completely mine, before we collapse and cannot but give way to exhaustion

I want to caress you
lie awake in your arms grinning foolishly at the ceiling with your breath misting up my glasses and my fingertips skimming your muscle-corded thighs
memorize every tendon and every prominent vein and the texture of your very core beneath the buoyant cushions that keep me afloat on you forever

I want to show you
places that are cherished and wonderful and and just plain ordinary unless the sun catches them by the right angle with the right people passing by
and pace them beyond sunset with our twin shutters flying until we mourn for all the beauty we cannot cram into those poorly encoded bits

I want to need you
collapse faintly in your arms in the aftermath and shudder and rage and weep until it all subsides and the clanging is little more than muted babble
take those cringing moments when the streets are crowded and lonely all at once and something hurts more than it should and halve that pain

but “soon” always means many months
and “one day” many years
and the times I need you most are when I cannot stand your touch