Too many miles and too many words
are between what should be simply
on delicious skin.
too many layers and
too many miles
are denying us the necessity of
my breath, and
on fire between your perfect hands.
I promise that this is not
what I am.
this desperate, jealous thing, I
without you, I
can live independent of your voice and touch and smell.
But you are an ethereal melody, skeletal, drifting ever farther
The haunting song I long to hear