I want the oil of your fingertips
to be infused in my skin,

I'd like to discover strands of your hair
tangled in my clothes,

I want the taste of your sweet skin
to soak into my dry tongue,

I'd like-after a long night-for your scent
to stain every hair on my head,

I wish for you to always be a part of me in all the smallest ways possible.

It's a private thought. They are not meant to be invaded, but
They were anyway. I thought you knew what my dreams were.

Every single one, I see a pair of eyes. Sometimes blue,
Sometimes green,
Sometimes grey,
But always shimmering.

It was dark and I saw nothing else. But somehow I could feel
Hands.
Gentle hands on my bare skin.
And a breath in my ear, whispering things that only matter
When said by one voice.

I could feel something that only one person can make me truly feel.
Love, fear, and a consuming lust.
Somehow, we were floating, but felt safe. We had the confidence and grace
Of cherry blossoms in the wind.

He kissed every ligament in my spine,
Returned to my lips and eyes,
And used his skin to cover my body, only for him to see.
He played with my hair,
He sighed on my neck and breathed me in. All I could
Think was "me. He is doing this to me."
He kissed my neck, about to completely connect
And make me feel more than I ever will.

And then I woke up.

Show me the stars and I will show you my mental scars
Show me love and I will show you the heavens up above
What is this squeezing of my chest, hidden by my *******
That these superficial men only want to ogle at.
Touch my breast.
Place your hand on it, fully.
And instead, fill yourself with the aching tune that is my heartbeat, not your lust.
And realise that I want to be felt. I want my feelings to touch someone else,
I want to be engulfed in your pain just as you are in mine.
I will press my full palm against your chest, and try as best as I can
to pull your troubled heart muscle from its place
I will cradle it in my arms and give it tender love
And together, we will heal.
Together, our muscles will mould and intertwine.
Our new flesh will grow over each others until whole,
We become.

The strains of flute, touched his inner being,
                   lifted him up, held aloft like a feather,
the music in gentle waves,  
                     took him through many lives he lived before
loosing all his mooring on here and now
                    he moved to the pinnacle, an unattached effulgent particle,
a sea of colors that kept changing, took him in,
                    he was liberated, from all bindings.
felt a joy exquisite, on being one with the music of the cosmic waves.

We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon.
Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista.
It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again.

We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning.
Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog.
A mottled neophyte -
Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud.
Aching to kiss your skin -
In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence.
Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome.
Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus.
Its intent –
A veneration of you.
It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor.

The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today,
Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage
Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree
Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite
Atomic schism – silent but felt
It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency.
Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore.
Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis.
Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel

The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it.
Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse
Inverse thermonuclear fusion
It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.

There is so much to be said about the human body but I would like to focus on one specific part for a moment.

Hands

There is something so magnificent yet terrifying about these rather small body parts, in comparison to the rest of you. Hands are capable of fixing and breaking and shaking and crushing and holding and letting go.
(Please do not let go of me.)
There are little creases that tell stories and lead to greater things, like the rest of you.
Hands, like the rest of the human body, come in all shapes and sizes and tones and textures. They can be rough or they can be soft, every pair has the same capability as the next.
Hands are the root of Touch. Hands are the root of Feeling.

I think about hands a lot; your fingers dance around in my head.
There are stories embedded in your palms and I will listen intently to every word they whisper or scream.
There are little fires on your fingertips and I cannot wait for you to set me on fire.