1

Too many miles and too many words

are between what should be simply

skin

on delicious skin.

too many layers and

too many miles

are denying us the necessity of

your tongue

tasting

my breath, and

my breasts

on fire between your perfect hands.

2

I promise that this is not

what I am.

I

am

not

this desperate, jealous thing, I

am not

a child

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

And always

just

out

of

reach.