there are pinks
and purpley-blues
beneath your veil of
skin cells,
small particles of personality,
hovering over a
great
swirling
mass
of delicacy and genuis.
I've tried tricking myself
into thinking that you,
you with icy hair
and
so-red lips,
would be
may be
electrifying.
but it seems
I am more conscious now,
uninhibited,
able to touch you freely.
to touch is to know.
to know is to touch.
