cool

You make me want
To twist and writhe in lust
To slide and rub
in passion's friction
Until we crawl
breathless and sweating
to the cool floor
screaming to do it again.

The peach that bruises
with lightest touch
is sweet and cool
delight
which melts on tongue
to rejuvenate
flesh and flame of soul

Her limbs trace mine
Like thin lines of ink
She holds onto me
Like shadow on skin
Light on water
I feel her
In a coolness there
A warmth here
But as I move to embrace her
She vanishes
Like a trick of senses
Gone awry