The Bounds of Comfort

Today I heard your voice
shall I admit that I was waiting
Through the shadows of the commonplace
you spoke in tongue familiar and pure
steeped in whispering sacrament.
I can feel your words naked
arms stretched high
spinning languidly before my eyes,
not quite passing for innocent
purposely reckless, weaving images
with a sacred secret language.
In turn, I reached out
through the listless, lazy lapse of time
touching images sublime
where, like me, my fingertips
could deliberately frolic
in your ambient implications.

We are connected, you and I,
like distant others,
faceless spirits matched by chance
we explore our spoken dance
mending sluggish inspiration.
So please press my bounds of comfort
binds of comfort be released
make me squirm in a salicious glaze
and lick it from my eyelids,
if only for that moment of lustful contemplation,
of soul and one raised eyebrow
hold it close and ride it down
into the softest layers of doldrum,
fill the imaginary spaces with unease
with erotic delinquent indulgences tease.
The rest of the day will play out the same
mocking routine with a smile.

Yes, please taunt the bounds of comfort
shackle my body to dissonance
and have your way,
your words staggering on their tight rope
knotting us like tandem bait
stretched above the path of fate
that circles hungrily below
comfort presses down, making tame,
guides us close to what we know.
So if only for today
let us simmer in delicious intrigue
hints of intimate curiosities
writhing in pungent allusions,
erotic intrusions
that reach beneath earth blankets.

Phantom light a candle by the bed
where you lie safely with your lover.
Look at her tonight and
regret not the thought of me,
a mere fleeting indiscretion
my faceless words flirting
with the hazard of our tongues
cords of intertwining maybes
my yes softly from her lips
your yes beneath my fingertips.
Give this brief reprieve inside
to disrupt your sensibilities
today I will mourn not the ordinary
and I will lie inspired
dazed in possibility.