Lust.

Euphoria clouds conscience,
adrenaline beats
blood in the veins; pulsating nerve
and breathlessness incurs 
as every nerve ending
breathes in the sight of
your majesty, and vibrance 
and the poise of your erect
spine and the stiffness
at your curvy, shallow
crevices, your hair falling
below that dented
shoulder and the
smothering skin and the ice cold
hands that are an artist’s best work,
and the lovely, lovely
plumpness of your wicked mouth,
trembling, as I 
attempt to raise you, 
inch by inch, above your bulk 
into the space, eager to 
start the new story that 
you contain.

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