Touch me
gently like rain
dripping down slow and wet --
watering my garden and my
flowers.
Why not
touch me like a
man, straight out of prison?
My clothes like glass between our trysts,
now gone.
Right here,
make me quiver
with your rough hands, touch me
like wet lips on a cigarette's
smooth shaft.
Recall
that burning night,
when your mouth, ember-red,
left searing brands where you touched my
bright flame.
Come now
like waterfalls
powerfully plunging.
Your fingers must part my waters...
touch me.
Originally published October 2007 - "Kink"