I run my fingers through your hair,
Eye to eye, soul to soul.
'Take off your mask' you say,
Calling me by a name; foreign.
But I can not
For the mask is me. Without,
Who am I?
Only a man.
And less than you need,
So I choose to remain
A mystery.

'Je veux un baiser,'
You breathe. Soft and warm.
Inviting a kiss.
Your eyes, your mouth,
Your neck,
The sensitive skin
Of your collar bone.
'Non - plus bas. Sans les mains.'

As I descend, kissing
Tasting
Licking
Sucking
All the way down
To where you wish me to be,
I realise that the flesh
I hold is real
But the flesh I taste,
The flesh I lust for,
Is illusory.
Imagined, but unknown.

And I recall;
Your face - from a photograph,
Your hair, eyes, lips,
Neck and collar.
Your voice, from your written word,
Imagined as one from afar.
Your taste....
Your taste
From my own heated imagination.

As I lie there
Staring at the dark;
Breathing deeply,
Still,
Awake.