He inhabits the air
with energy and sensuality.

Words vibrate,
a great storyteller.

His voice ignites
like the scent of a storm.
Some listen, their mouths
gape wide, indelicately open.

I wonder what it is like
to sleep in the same bed,
to hear each other’s breathing,
to inhale the scents of each other,
to press my face beside his head,
and keep it there forever.

To ravish his intelligence,
to violate his vulnerability,

To tremble with unrestrained love,
the fullness of a woman’s pleasure,
as I’ve never had before.

Watching him,
I have no idea
if this is madness.

Fate can be magical,
abstract,
mysterious,
left to chance.

His presence,
a recorded impression of words,
pounding
on my poetic memory.

I don’t know
if he has a sweetheart,
to ask would be pointless.