Poem

Pay close attention 

to the movement of my hands 

ignore 

the ticking,

...close clock. 

Pay close attention

to my breath, spy not 

the wind, haphazard 

through the trees; I may reach

for you, quickening my pace.

Feel my fingers trail 

the soft skin of your back;

my hands hear 

through sweeping,

slow motions.

Feel the scent of my

desire through

the tips of them; it lingers

...on the trail I keep tracing.

Forget...

Remember my touch,

 sounding hard

 cries, soft caresses.

...that I will leave you soon.