Languid

The dream of languid loving
Laps me
Cups the  
Pulsing heat at the heart  
Of me
Dips me in the gaze
From cinnamon-sweet eyes
Burns me with the play
From piano stroked fingers
 
Even now
Miles from him
All I can envisage
Is him in me
Searing me to him
With savage ecstacy
Mouths, hands,
Tongues, cries
An intoxicating potency
Of trembling sighs
 
I want him
Across years and silences
Despite words in iron boxes
And sporadic dances of truth
I want him
Even against reason
Prescribed decorum
I need him
Heart in heart
The most intimate
Of embraces