Like Air to the River
It isn’t a longing for moments anymore.
It’s a longing for skin.
The way the cells embrace,
the way lips long for lips.
Hands to be locked.
These palms for you to read.
This face a desert
In need of your rejuvenation
The way fingertips long for flesh
To manifest goosebumps
To traverse the back of your rib cage
With both hands.
The way the air longs for whispers
In the dark where moans live
Vocal chords for ecstasy
The way love longs to be heard
I hear you.


