In Short Supply

To hear your voice
Is to feel like I've been touched by a presence unknown
A feeling not yet felt
A tickling of my every nerve
You whisper and yet
Your soft voice reverberates in my rib cage
(So close to my heart)
My senses alive and eager for more
Of your voice
A voice like a vast fountain
Like the Fontana di Trevi, glistening in the sun
At once playful and yet resilient and focussed and everlasting
Precise and yet easily distracted by the wind or a change of thought

Your back arches
With more grace than any princess you seek to be or become
An 'S' shape like the reptile you shiver at (though you do so seemingly with such glee
and a frantic voice)
Covered and caressed by your golden brown skin
A skin so soft it feels like it could evaporate if I look upon it
And so I touch it gently and with care and with tenderness
(And love)

From my forearm, from my leg, from my chest:
Tears fall
They won't protect you
Why do they fall?
The thought that you are in need
I want one supernatural touch
From me
To protect you evermore
Rest your head
And all the magic it contains
And let me share my warmth with you
So you need never shiver again
Let me absorb your bad cells, your illness, your doubts, your temper, your tears, your sadness
Ensuring you neither need nor yearn for a thing

Now I need some breath
I call for breath
And receive none
It's too short upon thought of you
So clear a space for my new weight
I carry around now
I am two people now

poetry