The Promenade of Desire (Drunken thoughts)

 I’m wanting to capture the unadulterated essence of desire at it’s purest form. Not wanting to consume or simply acknowledging another’s presence, but to let the tendrils of one’s mind reach out in earnest. All of the subtle moments long before one soul traverses space to even attempt to conceive the orbit of their star system. The baseline of attraction being established with a simple gasp and extended gaze. Pursed lips poised into a smile unrecognized by none other than the one before you. The fear and temptation that gnaw at the same nerves that quickens the breath between each miniscule moment. Two iron fortresses pressed together, the pressure building between bombastic beat that drowns out all else, each hip swaying like deep waves before the tumultuous storm. Finally as if waiting to exhale, waiting to inhale the inaccessible oxygen that surrounds us, the draping of arms around shoulders. The menagerie of color that bursts forward. The only space that exists is between you and I. I can easily see the warmth of bonfires lit at sunset during the winters of your life as well as the cool waters that bring rest to your inflammatory core. You find hydration in my closer atmosphere and yet you thirst for the bitter liquor of my soul to quench your soul. The fear of admitting that you acted of your own instinct as you wrapped your body around me like a tarantula captivating it’s prey, but I want you to sink your fangs deep into the nape of my neck. Lay claim to me. Lay claim to all that I am and call me yours. Your predatorial paws seizing the back of my skull as if it was more than a trophy, as sustenance. The heat that radiates from your lips, the distant rush of star anise leaking to the rear of my throat. The rushing waters of your deepest caverns kindling the smoldering fire of my heart to shine like a lighthouse piercing the ink black night. Your leg wraps around my waist, anchoring me to your core. Your thigh tense at the slightest caress as I take inventory of every curvature of your body. I feel every digit of your celestial hands move across my shattered form, and still, you search for my lips, pulling me down into the trenches of your hunger.