2Petur

The warmth of your essence,
Like smoke trails along your body, it circles.
It twists and floats around,
Hovering towards me like fingers, motioning me closer.
My legs, any justice they don’t do.
Stricken stone still,
The temperature so hot my skin drips with sweat,
The scent so close, drawing me deeper.
A chill of goosebumps hit,
And this struggle to keep air flowing, my lungs choke out.
Weightless,
As the essence wraps its curls around my vessel,
Bleeding through this external wall, to the passionate being beneath.
It squeals with intense desire,
And the soul becomes intoxicated with the richness of this foreign substance.
One turn around,
And I’ve found myself stumbling towards the ground.
Left with a headache of heartache.