Untouched

The woman who never sleeps, 

She loves the early morning hours when fresh light is shining in.

 Trundled in her blankets,

Secure diminutive fetus.

The nightmares leave with obscurities

 Safe sex, they snicker, is an oxymoron...

 They have to take that one last stab

 before the light blocks them out.

Her mind ambles in and out of reality

as effortlessly as stations on the dial of her car.

Therefore, she can feel someone holding her tenderly

telling her everything is all right.

It’s all right, and it’s going to be all right.

 I’m all right.

 More than all right.

I’m a striking, sensuous being

In the early morning hours the ache of my existence is exquisite

my mind stripped of worries, my body bare of apparel

Someone rocking her

Firm hands; words

Fingers trailing through her hair.

 She hungers for the words more than for their touch

Along her temples,

 inside her mind

Echoes, trailing earthquakes along her skin

 It feels so good,

 as so few things do

Lips; whispering

They trace along the length of her form

 in rhythms, consonants, alliteration,

leaving fiery moist darts in their wake

 lit clit literature

The rocking glides into a cadenced dominance

 surrounded by sound; sounding out the words

 They taste good

 She’s not some crazy hypersexual whore,

Not dirty nor low

Beautiful

Powerful

Unique

He must know that I can’t say no to anything

but understands that freedom breeds

Breathes

 She's whispering

Any time; any place

 Crazy, clashing imagery

Any game; any position

 The pauses seem random but are pregnant with anticipation

As hard as you want

 They only seem harsh when they become personal

As long as you want

 broken up by spaces, trailing down the page like fingers

As fast or as slow as you want

 speed poetry, seed poetry, erupting in motion

As often as you want

 She lingers in the words compulsively,

tunneling through her limbs,

a fix shot through her veins

 The stamen forced through,

the soft tactile flames

 bursting into her brain,

a profusion of shuddering red petals

 warm and spreading warmth

Heavy breathing in her ear

It’s morning

I’m safe in the morning

The breaths are defenselessly resilient ,

holding back so much

Holding back the pain

The emptiness

The fear

Solid hands are holding her,

soothing her,

telling her that she's safe

Gentle, persistent,

Leaving tremors in their wake

I’m all right

 Everything’s all right

“Are you there?” he asks.

Softly

He knows that she needs him to ask

She needs to be there

I want to be there

I don’t have to float fearfully from my body

Hovering cold and alone above

There's nothing broken here;

 I can connect like this, cling to this

Touch it taste it smell it feel it free it be it

 allow myself to feel this, to enjoy this -

Shaking, quaking with searing intensity

in the effort to maintain control

for fear her mind will explode

with urgency in the moment

Because he’s on to her,

covering her

Clever enough,

patient enough

to sense when she's leaving,

to hold her close and tell her that he’s there

 to rock and to read another line

And she adores him for it

 a stanza

For grounding her,

pressing her into the covers

whispering

Touch me

Touch me here

 Short, rapid breaths singing,

A pant

A sigh

 Denying entry of the fear

Filling her with floral arrangements

 No room for the thorns

 Tell me

Teach me

Reach for me

Quivering

I burn like a phoenix

Birth like Eve

Believe

Just tell me

Movement by movement,

describe the steps of the dance

 For she hungers for the words as much as for the touch

I learn quickly

My mind and body open

early in the morning

where the nightmares stand at bay.