Like fire in your fingers
Your touch burns and lingers
An imprint on my skin
Sinking deeper and deeper in
The parts of you that are not blinding
Are terribly spellbinding
A whirlpool of pure ecstasy
A peek at a mystic entity,
In the heat of your embrace
There is no time and there is no space
A thrill almost too fierce to believe
A moment where I forget to breathe
A flow of burning fire and raging cold
All at once a feeling that does not get old
The body saying things I cannot speak
The only thing in the world that makes me weak
A melting point when all time and all things stand still
A cup of desire to eagerly fill.
About the Creator
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Ideas
I am a human being—full of mistakes, full of ideas—some bad, some not worth letting escape. If they do get out they may act like bees; swarming to find the next filling thing without any regard for practicality. So some ideas fall into a jar to die in the back of the cupboard. Maybe one day they'll resurface—pressure too much to handle and I'll have no choice but to let the bees look for their pollen to make honey. It may not be so bad after all—letting the swarm escape to make something new for me or anyone unfamiliar. It's only a problem when it's wasps unknowingly released. That, I do apologize for.
By Andi Leighabout an hour ago in Poets
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