Ease into the rhythms
With such utter desperation that
It's no longer easing at all.

For her calls touch you in ways that
Once were mere fantasies,
Created within the gauze of tangled bedsheets and
Caressing with wanton breaths.
(The ones now materialized in her lungs,
Slipping past the lips you long to hold with yours and
Embracing the sensitivity of eardrums,
The kind that pick up on
Every tone of desire,
Every desperate sigh.)

Free from inhibition,
(Though growing no more complacent than
The day of the first stomach flutters,
Heart palpitations and
Lower lip bites,)

Free of restraint yet
Cocooned in spine-wracking jolts,
Near dehabilitating trembles and
Spasmodic tempos,
Damn near snapping nerve endings
(Stretched tautly by mere confessions)

As every axon fires,
Leaving out no dendrites,
Dousing us in epinephrine and
Instigating ragged pleas for more.

Strain out the serotonin and
Liven the dopamine,
For more than simple limbs are wrapped around you--
Be it hearts, minds, or souls,
(The plural form utterly incongruous in the
Face of such

They are yours to own,
To hold,
To keep.