Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Inch by inch (written in a recent notebook,undated)

your fingers, still warm from wrapping around the cup of tea,

 reach over the table and touch mine,

 your nails pale against my tough skin,

 the pace of each finger leaving their impression on the back of my hand,

 hard, but not too hard, dtermined to draw my hand to you..

 The pale room hums with the remote movement of of remote traffic 

too far beyond the walls for either of us to feel,

 this room filled with your preferences, with your clam shell stare 

and your oyster lips, is all there is,

 heated breath rising and falling with its own tides,

 inch by inch my hand reaches over the table top to where you are lingering 

as the soft embrace between each button, 

warmy gorwing warmer, breathing nearer to dispair, 

the air as thin as mountin tops and me an anxious mountain

 climber desperate to reach the top, inch by inch

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