there is a sweet spot just below your jaw, sunburnt and tender. I long to kiss it.
your mouth is fine. to kiss that too... I shiver if I look too long at your hands.
your lean tense shoulders compel my fingers to knead, to caress. the low note
of your voice makes me weak; how I wish to rest my head on your shoulder, to
feel as well as hear. oh talk of anything, love, keep talking. your voice
is warm as eiderdown. I snuggle into it.
there is a sadness in your eyes that makes my arms ache to hold you; my hands hurt
from not being allowed to stroke your hair, to console you.
I could ask life for nothing more than you, asleep in my arms. your blue gaze,
wry and shy, I wish it travelled my skin. how I wish.
I wake aching, aching all over from not having you beside me. from not having you.
your arms, lean and brown, sprinkled with gold; they take the breath from my lungs,
I am dizzy, words fail me. oh let me curl up next to you like a cat.
there is a smell to you. not the food you have eaten, not the scent of boat or metal,
it is your smell; and blindfold in a crowd of strangers I could find you, given time.
breathing your body scent I fear nothing. it is the smell of safety, of comfort,
of home. my pillow smells all wrong. it does not smell like you.
oh, to find every scar on your body, kiss them all and make them better. to kiss
every finger of your able hands. and more.
to touch your face. to make you laugh. having seen you handle tools, lines,
jellyfish, wasps -- to be handled by you: your gentleness and strength, your care.
to play with you, to let you play with me. never to be? it is more than I can bear.
-- GPL Sep 2005 D. A. Clarke