Could I?

Sometimes,
I just want to write down the eroticisms
that I feel.
Tame them to paper, bound by that white sheet.
Out of me.

If we meet on the street,

Could I hug you,
feel your arms surround
me, the brief press of
exhilarating warmth?

In France a kiss
to each cheek is very ordinary.

Could I kiss you,
leisurely; one for each lip?

In business, a hand
shake seals the deal.

Could I trace the lines of your hand,
breathe in your palm,
let your fingers trace down my neck?

When children tell each other secrets,
they hold their heads close and whisper.

Could I feel the tickle
of your whiskers against
my cheek and whisper my secrets
soft breath in your ear?

A friends’ comforting arm
feels reassuring across the shoulders.

Could I run my hands
along your shoulders,
feel the tightening tautness and
rest there?

Flowers have beauty
but we always lean
in to take in their fragrance.

Could I lean in, head to chest,
take in your scent and
dream?

When I walk through a garden I
close my eyes and feel
the leaves and flowers soft
sensuous textures.

Could I close my eyes and explore?