Moisture hangs hooked on the air
Eyes un-meeting, un-watching, stare with baited velvet
And the moment holds wary and wanton.

suspended

Paused

Filled

Waiting

The only sound the whisper of breath
close enough to steal
The only feeling
Unbearable, beautiful,
warmth
Fiction real
Skin drenched in the promise of sweat
Pupils wide enough to
teach
The only part of their body that
can reach
that peak of
longing

The feel of shifted
air
A
breath
A
single
hair

Almost touching
Almost real
Close enough to steal

A piece of Torturous Perfection


*The Moisture hangs hooked on the air