On top of a mountain-
Feel my hand squeezing yours
with a gentile firmness
that holds you here
just for a moment in this
and feel the breath from my mouth
as it touches your breath
while they dance around one another winding into intoxication
It's over, or at least it has been treated that way.
Despite all the water and cool reserve
hidden down in the corners our our pockets are tiny fires.
We have keept our distance long enough for them to be squashed down to
ignored, with hopes that in being left unattended they become silent, smokey whispers-
Whispers, until your departure initiated a return where
my words got too close to
You, always distant and silent and
me, always hot and laughing.
I am uncomfortable because of the way you look at me,
the way you look through me.
You make me see myself,
feel myself on fire,
naked - Stop.
I'm in my bed and dreaming in spirals around you
waking to a thought about how you might want
or maybe I am just projecting.
What you want is a mystery.
What I want is a paradox
because it is so simple
yet so complex:
I only want to know