I felt your skin,
barbie-like ,
clammy waxy-smooth
plasticy as I imagined
appealingly
shiny in the darkness.

I tasted your scent of earth and ocean
the wood tones creating charmingly,
an appetizing lightness
musk melody
fixated on my neurons,
as I breathed you in.

Your doughy hands
baby touch,
enlightened the panic in my face,
dissolved the numbness.
Tingles
surreal, whether I opened my eyes
or held them closed.  

What ever came next

Your lips stiff and sweet
as an apple's core,
I felt
rising against my back
like a lump in your throat.
Arms thunderous
logs bundled in blankets
clumsily avoiding skin contact.

Each exhale of saucy yearning,
summoned me a little further
to where I felt the insides of your desires.
With each exhale, I grew more restraint

I felt wonder trickle down my spine
and fade
with your breathing.

he's
tripping, but not
coerced by gravity;
rather a Molotov cocktail of
endorphins lobbed straight at his
prefrontal cortex.
some find this
distasteful,
some find it
deplorable;
god help me,
I find it adorable.
(it's the only time he'll
admit he loves me)

Sometimes poems take
forever to pass by
like fishing for the big one
hook, line, sinker,

Sitting, watching the water
ripple as they tease
saying "we're just below
the surface of what you see."