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Rapture

I have become a bedtime letch: a groping, many-limbed thing that smothers you with caresses and disturbs you as you settle to bed; climbing over and around you for indeterminate periods of time before finally snuggling into the soft point in your neck, placing my lips a little lower down and falling into a quiet slumber.
And it is customary that I do this now: I must perform this little ritual nightly else I am unable to sleep peacefully.

 
How did it happen, this pattern I have developed?

How did I get from my side of the bed to yours?

 
I think it begins with your skin: that glowing, beautiful cloth that covers you so decorously and calls me to touch you.
Whose very contact soothes me and leaves me serenely spent beside you. It stirs something in me and I am moved to touch; to use my hands to paint strokes along your form. Revelling in this incredible sensation I am allowed to savour – thoroughly and at leisure.

I could look at you for hours: feasting my eyes on the curves and dips that describe you intimately to me; the details and the softness sending little shivers through my fingers on contact.

You are delicious. And basically, I like putting you in my mouth. Like to lick the freckles sprinkled like chocolate powder across your shoulders and to map out your flesh with my tongue.

 
Is it possible to enjoy holding a body so much? To be tamed and comforted by the mere presence of another’s figure against yours? I am learning so. Our time together is a measured lesson in relishing the experience of touch: a biology seminar full of enchantment and charm. It brings a sense of discovery and exploration; challenges my boundaries of intimacy and leaves my imagination drafting scenarios that make me afraid and hopeful.

We have played with many words in an attempt to describe this shared communion: floundering in our vocabulary; aware that our stammering choices will have to be discarded because they fail to portray the dazzling swirl of sentiment that encompasses the emotive fusion of this tactile exchange. But I’ve thought of one – and it seemed an appropriate title for this missive.

Holding you is my rapture. And I am grateful for the opportunity and grateful even more for your permission to do so.

Thank you.
 
 
 
Dedicated to: Auburn – because you said “Yes” that first time and the many times since. And because you messed up what I thought I knew about myself.
 

 
 
SO TELL ME: What do you think of this piece?

  • Did it engage you?
  • Does the meaning come across? Are there any images or lines you don’t understand or find unclear?
  • Are there obvious errors in spelling, punctuation or grammar?
  • Do you have any suggestions for revision?

Please be brutally honest in your assessments – good, bad or indifferent.
I don’t scare easily; and I really do want to hear what YOU have to say about my work.

Many thanks in advance for your time and your criticism.
 
You can read other bloggers’ valentine’s interpretations at My Funny Valentine?
 
 

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AUTHOR: I am might war. I have a love of music, the written word, travel, Anime, polar bears, people and “sticking and colouring”.

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