If I touch you... here
would oxygen hiss through your
(suddenly open) mouth?
If I touch you here,
will your shoulders knot and
your throat turn pink-
my little voyagers descend...
will your pupils dilate
'til they swallow me whole-
and your moan turn the curtains violet,
turn the air to blackberries?
As my hand commits the sweetest
secret patterns
as time turns to friction
and your sudden cries puncture the room
tell me, would the blackberries burst?
Paint me purple, my sweet man.