On my way back to the real world this morning, I listened to my favorite cut in the car. You know, the one I played for you on our way home? The minor key caresses my head and my spinal metronome meets the rhythm of the phrasing. I exhale audibly and inhale from a deeper place. I feel connected to the musicians.
Touched and stroked, rubbed and caressed, my skin is finally sated and it sets me free to listen to my heart. My heart feels hot and ripe, waking next to you. All night long you’ve been seeping into my psyche. I wake looking for an even deeper connection. It’s that feeling of perpetual arousal and slight nausea that burnishes me these days. In afterglow, electricity shoots across my shoulder blades, through my throat and right between my eyes. Each release expands my spirit, touching even the tiniest of polite encounters with strangers as well as more significant connections and desires for the people of my life. My fingertips might burn through matter. Slightly taken aback, I must explain “I’m alive; I’m in love.”
I enjoy this sweet, erotic, love-soaked slant on the fleeting light and last roses of fall. And I’m grateful to you for making me the lover I’ve always wanted to be: received; expansive and cherished. I’m surrounded by fountains of discovery and rediscovery; the source and subject of so much passion.