Inside are achings for pleasure colliding

swiftly with what mystifies and arrests attention

then lets it go.

Where?

I want to ingest you

but not to devour

to touch

in a way

lightly

that calls you to meet me

in dark corridors in struck moments

lit by breaths, kisses

awakened deeply

letting fly ghosts

in fluttering vibrations

rising through spines, throats

flowing easily meeting

in tensing and opened muscles

holding onto warmth

eyes flaring as recollections of feeling

pass behind then through them

and join the exchanging

soft damp perimeters

intently known

remembered and exploded.