Intoxication
April 22 2008


In the dark
under cover
your breathing accompanies me.
The rustle of air.
The regularity
I find so reassuring.
And the molecules we share
distilled from deep within our blood.

In the art of smell
we are infants
— messing about with finger-paints,
barely mastering the primary colours,
the names and shades escaping us.
But when we touch
I breathe you in
— your skin
your sex
your soft warm flesh.
My sins are gluttony and lust
and like an addict shooting-up
I cannot rest.
And even when you’ve left
your scent is indelible,
monopolizing all my senses
suffusing memory.

How I see you like the first time
— back-lit by sunlight
your hair a halo of fire.
How I strain to hear you sing
when you think no one is listening.
How I long to hold you close
exploring through your clothes,
stroking you
in places only I can know.
And when I taste you with my lips
how I love to breathe you in,
my tongue ravenous
my appetite insatiable.

How we fill each other up;
yet still
cannot get enough.