I Want to Touch You There

I want to touch you in the places that drive you wild.

We often falter as we approach the altar of our desire, wavering in both confidence and security. We play in our comfortable spaces, taking pause to dip our toes in relative insanity, then pull back to a different though familiar feeling.

Remorse. Regret. The “why did I do that?”

It is at that moment we give our power over to the voices that taught us those things. We hear them in many ways, but regardless of the presentation the results are the same. We doubt who we are and shrink into safe shadows, forgetting the passion and wild expanse of our wildness while ignoring that alive feeling so readily available to us all.

Let’s be clear. I want to touch you there, in that place that drives you wild. I want you to feel safe in the pools of what you don’t know but want to feel. There is no greater certainty than two eagles flying through uncertain skies together. The experience of the unknown can be exhilarating beyond all known measure, and the trust such survival offers cannot be broken easily. You want a lifeguard? I’ll yawn and beg you for my leave. You want someone to drown with you? I’ll dive in and sink into the abyss, our lips embraced as our tongues dance eternal. Tell me where you want to go, and let me walk there right beside you. Security is for cowards; the brave charge into the flames that scare them most.

Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. ~Rumi

I see you. I see your flesh and I want to scream. There are so many places I want to touch you. I want to draw curves on the tapestry of your skin and kiss those places that make you gasp in awesome prayer. I want to drink you in, never forgetting your taste as you meet your god on the altar that once gave you pause. Yes, I want to touch you there and never stop the artistry.

I feel you. In the moments of my deepest repose I can sense your hungry mouth wondering in our sacred places. I dive deeper, wanting more. You and I have no place in the shallows. Our home is deep, and as you beg me to go deeper I respond with a power you cannot remember; the thrusts of our ecstasy holding us together in the sweaty mess we’ve made. We find each place is ours, each moment a possibility of orgasmic wanderings. It is there we’ve found that heaven does exist.

Soon the old stories of regret and remorse fall away, replaced by the lines of fingernails on skin created by an unapologetic artist. Heartbeats in unison, we warriors stand tall against a world that simply cannot fathom our depth, our power, our resolve to do things the way we intend to. The voices within shriek in horror but we, the souls who harbor such heaviness, cannot pay attention. What was once insane is now our norm, and what was once normal now seems so fucking crazy.

Now, as my fingers play in your puddle, I bend my lips to taste you. Thirsty no more, a traveler now travels with what is home by his side. There, I want to touch you, over and over again.