My body begs me for sweet relief, to let my limbs, my digits, all of my organs, to let them go numb, falling deep down into a dark place where I have vehemently refused to stumble for many moons.
I keep my carcass a hollowed shell, swearing off any inclination of relaxation, of letting down my guard, forbidding myself to wander to the place that frightens me most.
My beating chest, it fights back with fierce vigor against my head's resounding no's as your lips, soft and succulent, beseech my own, our tongues exchanging salutations in a hushed, velvety vernacular that seems completely of our own creation.
As my brain runs hurriedly a million miles in a direction somewhere southwest of here, my figure melts, oozing into your muscular hands as they caress my face, sweeping my hair behind my ears.
Panic sets into my mind, my breathing grows heavy, but instead of bolting for the door, I draw your frame closer to mine, wrestling a copacetic convulsion of angst and jitters as your fingernails gingerly scrape down my spine.