your touch would be light- <br />a ghosting warmth, <br />until, (oh, god!) <br />you leave me- <br />marked- <br />like prints on crystal, <br />keeping, keeping... <br />then finger-swiped away- <br /> <br />your taste, <br />like a tongue to lime, <br />hissing-sputtering- <br /> <br /> <br />'S-s-tay...' <br /> <br /> <br />shrinking shadow-steps, <br />so careful- <br />(oh, god!) <br />I am aching- <br />reaching, <br />but I can not touch- <br />no, <br />I will not stretch. <br /> <br /> <br />'please...' <br /> <br />little Phantom- <br /> <br />'please...S-s-tay...'<br /><br />April Michelle Wolverton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/morning-air/
