Desire Triptych, Part 3: Dreams

You.
At first glance,
you seem to be just a man,
no different from a thousand others;

but out of the corner of my eye,

I see the hint of glitter that is visible

around the edges of your casual confidence,

or swirling just behind the gentle authority you exude.
You are in command of the room,
and of everyone you pass in a hallway.

You quietly speak magic spells
(hidden in your everyday phrases)

that draw out desire in those around you.

With the deft hand of a conductor, you create need,

pulling heat to the surface like a slow-building string section.

I look around, wondering if I'm the only one

with a symphony of lust

pounding across the stage of my mind.

This thought unsettles me;
I like to be the focus,
so I drift away,
stubbornly repelling your magic,
but I always drift back,

settling into the familiar current,
floating along, wanting -

wanting with a pervasive intensity

that fills my imagination.
Scenes flash by, causing me to bite my lip:

I kiss your wrist, and pull your face to mine –
then an image of you pressing me against a wall,
or my arm slipping inside your sweater,

as I press my face to your chest, then undo your belt.

This image spirals me to lucidity -
I would kneel before you,

worshipping you with my mouth.

The flashes come to me at all hours,
and I see your eyes peering up over the perfect curve of my breast
as I lie in tangled sheets;

I can't take my eyes off the smooth curve of your neck,
just below your ear...I would press my lips to that spot and 
let teeth graze an earlobe as I withdraw...

I would moan your name and insist that you shift positions

because I need you inside me, now.

I struggle to evade these scenes

(created in vivid sensory detail and playing on a loop)

because they do not quell my desire,

they feed it like dry wood on a pyre.

This.
This is desire,
this is dangerous and all-consuming.