I want you.

This wanting is an ember
I grip between my thighs,
a slow heat, creeping
sneaking upward, gripping my lungs, my heart
until I cannot breathe and so
I blush.

It is a quiet current
beneath the surface of a deep river
carrying strange secrets
inviting me to dip my fingers
beneath the surface.
Inviting me to drown.

This wanting is
a dark and wondrous thunderhead
building tall and silent, embracing the dry hills.
Waiting for a lightning strike,
the first drop of rain,
like kisses on my skin.

Forgive me.
It has been decades since my last confession.

I am afraid to hold you close,
afraid I’ll fan the coals
and burn us both to the ground.

I dare not speak
for fear the gates will break
and you and I will be swept away
on that mighty river.

I watch the horizon with worried eyes,
waiting for the forest fire.
Waiting for the flood.

In my hands, my blood composes songs of you
until my fingertips want to cry.
The melody is so perfect
because it is unsung.
It rushes through my core,
whispering your name.

Forgive me.
I want you.

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