Between the wanting and the oneness
there is a moment,
that wordless, wondering moment
in which I shall will you to kiss me.

It’s as brief as a heart beat,
as endless as a heart break,
as fatal as a heart stop.
What chance do you have?
Don’t look into my eyes, you’ll be lost….
Don’t gaze upon my mouth, you’ll fall for
its wantonness,
its sinlessness,
and all its hopeless hopefulness.

Surely you’re too sensible,
far too sensible for that.

First, a glance, your quizzical
questioning glance…
I feel it burning into me,
appraising and figuring.

I feel you near…

Don’t ever leave me…