Touch me with your hand, my dear,

Pull me close , against your chest.

Hold me in your arms, my dear,

Your heart beat, giving me rest.

Let my hands, my dear, caress your skin,

Feeling your warmth, my dear,

The warmth within.

Let me lie curled, my dear,

Your back, touching mine.

I don’t can’t just your heart.

I want your flesh, your skin,

and blood, and bones, your voice,

your thoughts, your pulse, and most

Of all, your fingertips, everywhere.

I used to believe that love should

feel like a storm, passionate,

raw and raging.  But so many storms

have come and left her more broken

than before.  Now, she looks for a

Love that feels like the night after

the storm is over.

Or else she may be whisked away,

by the distant memory of what she lost.