Passion Without Flesh.

All day I picture curves arching under me
Dripping the sweat of passion, the heat
Jeering at the bodies we use to strain for pleasure
Equaled by no other. We quest together for the
Coolness and calmness that follows it.

Tonight I must make this image into reality.
I cannot live on images. Sustenance craves
Veritability of pleasure, not phantoms of fever.
Each moment stretches into eternity; I
Long to run my hand down the spine, cup
Each buttock in turn, lick a line of
Shivers along the spine hiding behind you.
Soon I will make love to you.