Into Me You See

Your hands mean nothing

as they trace over my body

if you can’t hold my eyes

with intimacy,

surrendering,

and no pretenses.

A body is a body –

made of cells,

nerves and flesh.

It is not the body you used

to make love to,

but the mind attached to it

and I want to dive into

that contentment that brings me,

takes me and makes me

a fulfilled woman.

Hold me close

and watch me move;

watch the rhythm of me

dance with yours

and know that passion is not

the act of animalistic chemistry

but the initiation to enter

my wants,

desires,

fantasies,

music,

poems,

paintings,

and my heart.

Intimacy is the solitary familiarity

of the heart

that cordially invites you

to enter and drink from its fountain.

Your hands mean nothing at this point

if you can’t see through the eyes of my soul.

2/2006

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