i'm dying—

there can be no other explanation for

the way my heart beats against its bone cage

the way my lungs tighten and swell

as your tongue maps the arch of my throat

descends

to the curve of my breasts.

i'm dying—

burning to death

as your hands fan my ribs, nails

bite into my skin, tongue

departs to explore the

burning apex between my thighs

leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

i'm dying—

as your fingers part me, tease me, tempt me,

flirt with the part of me the aches for you,

throbs for you, beckons you,

quivers with nerves alight,

but you don't;

you bastard, you won't.

i'm dying--

and my cries are my death throes

as finally you move over me

as you move into me,

hands on my wrists and

lips on my neck and

hips locked with mine,

the two of us, skin and sweat and

scorching heat, entwined.

i'm dying—

but as your body collapses onto mine,

and we shudder and shake

and gasping mouths seek and find;

as ecstasy spills between us

from where we pulse with heat, combined,

i know:

i have never felt more alive.