The invisible curves which describe you have neither beginning nor end.Each is different in its time and placeThey exist at the end of my fingertips as it hovers above your skinOnly the whorl of my fingertip touches at the synapse of nerve endingThe caress begins at the nape of your neckIt continues the journey with no route map to followOnly searching by instinct for those confluence of curvesWhich beget shudders of deli...