mystery

a mystery of skin
a scent alien to the heart
the longing for an absent touch
quakes the spine, the lips part
for an escape of breath that enters the void
between us,
between the limbs, a secret grows,
throbbing to the beat of imagination
where all desire is fulfilled in a rapid fervor,
the fever of the illness grows
burning modesty to ash
and making a fool of this civilized shell,

the presence passes like a shade,
unknown and. un-named,
the flesh feels barren, an unrequited pain
that steals the rushing blood for an ache
that expands with each footstep

as she walks away