Intimacy

I often tend to lockdown

My desires, fantasies and you,

In a night's tale, I write.

I write, a dimly lit balcony,

A mattress, music and us,

Entwined in one quilt, and wine!

I write, a warm fuzzy bathtub,

Roses, lemon grass, and steam,

Rising not from water, but bodies.

I write, open terrace nights,

Stars, constellations, and music,

Not from a guitar, but moans!

I live what I write and,

I write, What I can't live,

Yet you're here,

Not in my arms, but my tell-tales!