My nails dig
into the skin on my arms
when I let myself think over what you've become to me:
your eyes are the needles I stick everywhere into my veins,
viciously, selfishly, fiendishly,
begging you look me over, once, twice, thousands of times in all the unused, neglected spaces.
I yearn to inject everything, anything you have the grace and generosity to grant unto me--
to shoot up and float away--
so that as your love pulses through my bloodstream and dilates my pupils I can revel in the explosion of sensation and sentiment that has too long lain dormant in the chambers of my heart.
Your voice puts shivers down my spinal column, drawing with the softest touch a line from its base
to the baby hairs at my neck,
It churns the contents of my abdomen slowly,
the intense heat
creeping
in a motion like the currents within the core of the Earth:
liquid heat rising,
cooling, falling, heating,
rising again--
a cycle by which ignites a white-hot fire from the depth of my being by which no other soul has managed to awaken before yours.
I'm so
terribly, helplessly, uncontrollably
addicted to you, my Darling.
You've become quite the drug to my ever-craving palate of desires,
and to go too long a time without that appeasement, the undeniably luxurious romantic gratification by which you so masterfully exude
for me
is to refuse the dregs their drugs
and I cannot fall into withdrawal again.
My nails dig
into the skin 'round my head
tearing out hair
because I've gone mad over you.
This one wrote itself, really. I went into this with an idea that has somehow transformed of its own accord. Unexpected. Serendipitous? Precipitous for sure.