I am not the body tangled in your
sheets when you thread your fingers through
my hair. I am the tickle that sends shivers
down your spine as I whisper your name. I am in
the gasp of air that catches in the back of your throat.
I am not the chest you lay your head on
after a night of fitful passion. I am the
spaces in which our fingers intertwine, our touch
echoing like the soft pop of a roaring
fire. I am the hint
of a smile that plays on
your reminiscing lips.
When you kiss me, I dissolve.