Too Early To Be Friday

Unfiltered passion cuts a ribbon of fire across my skin
as hands reach toward me,
gently brushing aside the veil that hides my heart.
…but how can it be when you are not lying next to me?


Our bodies are twined in an intricate dance, fueled by words
and driven by a rhythm we cannot stop.
…but how can it be when your hand does not rest
in the small of my back, guiding me across the floor?


I close my eyes and you come to me in a rush of sense memory,
living out what the seer foretold.
…but how could she have seen with such certainty
what we dare not see in each others eyes?


Fingertips retrace a path leading to the base of my neck
where your mouth searches for a quickening and telling pulse.
…but how can it be when you lie miles away,
touching me only with your words?


A fragile truth hangs in the air as we sit in silence,
listening to the rise and fall of each other's breathing.
…but how can it be we cannot say goodbye,
fearing we’ll sever the invisible current running between us?


I fear the breaking dawn lies in wait to shatter what the veiled night has sired.
Will we take up arms to protect the fragile beginnings of what might be
or steal away to our caverns?


Can it be that shoulder to shoulder we might lay claim to that which is offered?


Can it be?