It's easier to tell this through a story,
than to ever say it happened to me...

Because as he steered through fog to his house,
remembering the quiet as she first touched
the buttons slowly coaxed from her blouse,
names whispered as their blood rushed.

Something inside broke then like a cracking bell,
as the inevitable kept drawing closer,
heart, mind, or soul, he couldn't really tell,
he was already lost in her shape and flavor.

He wondered if she also kept replaying midnight,
if her skin remained searing with their fever,
a mysterious luminescence, eyes filled with light,
with the moment he slipped deep inside of her.

Or if holding on now will just make her let go,
become a ghost he cannot ever sooth or reach,
cut off and cold before this could ever grow,
some place inside her that he cannot breach.

It's easier to tell this through a story,
than to ever say it happened to me...

She had whispered in a gentle, masked plea,
to hold her closer, to hold her tight,
he can't say now why he chose to flee,
when he also ached to stay all night.

Something cracked inside him just then,
flashing through as he returned,
indescribable with a voice or a pen,
how the world strobed, how they burned.

He wanted to tell her how the last time he fell in love
he was crushed and didn't know how to heal,
heart shivering like a fragile, scared dove,
but the sparks and stars here are more than real.

Or tell her how no one's been close to his true core,
but her touch unraveled, left him undone,
he never felt like a part of someone before
except for when their hearts thundered as one.

Approaching the front door now, it flung open,
he sighed in relief, tucked away the words,
remembering as her smile warmed his blood again,
that some things don't need to be said or heard.

Whether as lovers or as friends,
some intimacies can't be captured in a sentence,
they know tonight isn't going to be the end,
even if they exist in snapshots, a potent presence,

A part of him will always belong to her,
whether alone or covered later in her skin,
something entirely claimed, kept forever,
no way to tell where two end or begin.

It's easier to tell this through a story,
never saying if it's fiction or about me.