The flesh will remember all,
record the slightest tingle
that became an electrical storm
dancing across your exposed skin.

Every swell in the breeze
hinting at what may come,
just make me wait,
no matter how I beg.

Some memories strike softly,
tease like vague, knowing fingers
piercing the softest tunnels.

Some strike like impetuous bolts
with sudden, new primal energies
crackling from the tightest depths.

I've seen the moment where
you truly come to life,
when limbs become live wires
furiously pulling me inside.

It's the mere drizzle coating me
before entering the hurricane.

The flesh will remember all,
record time's passage like ink
marking our lonely skins
as we wait for the storm.

Every rush through our bodies
hinting at the tangles to come,
just make me wait,
no matter how I cry out.

Some are nothing more
than vague after images
burning behind retinas.

Some are primed to explode,
to detonate through me
and crackle through tremors
rising through your voice.

I've seen the moment where
we truly spring to life,
when the animal need within
furiously claims my aching root.

It's the first thunderclap booming
from the depths of your hurricane.

And flesh will always remember,
will impart the darkest secrets,
will drape my naked form
as you descend and squeeze,
asking what I wish to confess....

In the eye of every storm to come,
no matter how much I scream your name,
no matter how I plead for release.

Just make me wait.