When I feel a storm of fire
Rushing to the crease of me
I'm opened up with feverish thoughts,
& can only slide open from within.
Imagine bolts not coming loose,
but melting away for the moment.
Maybe alcohol helps all this,
But the promise of more than skin
Spreads my insecurities thin,
Spreads them as if they were harmless,
As if I could just swallow them down,
Quiet them down in the pit of me,
& if there is any lingering doubt on my tongue,
It's swept over, softly at first,
Like waves that climb slowly over each other,
Moving to a flow that is inherently known,
A smooth dance rising to ferocity,
In which touch speaks for me.