It takes all I have

to control

each action sluiced

and sliced

into little round cubes

burnt by internal fire

soft ash dust

sparse windy air

pocketing my desire

for you in pieces

just waiting

for the right moment

to leap into unknown waters

feet first

so frozen and

the river could be cold

to the touch

but your skin is warm

and gentle

heat rising

searing my arm

tingling my senses

scrambling my brain

to mottled bunches.



I have too much



self control



(and it's eating me alive.)