Hazy hot and humid

I think it is in the co-mingling of sweat, the hot skin against skin, the slippery skid of us against each other…salt, lip gloss, lotion, the saliva streak across a stretch of flesh in the hazy hot and humid…

I think it is in the quiet stillness of an afterwards, fingers trailing the length of an arm, finding companions and linking softly, a clutch of hands and a clutch of slightly warming radiance, the tips where you and I are just barely touching after having completely touched before in the hazy hot and humid…

I think it is in the collapse of a distance,  from feet to inches,  centimeters to millimeters, until the collision occurs and the unfolding, the unfurling commences, wrapped in each other and entangled, caught in the spider-web of each other, the sticky silk of a mouth upon a mouth in the hazy hot and humid…

I think it is in the proximity, the periphery, the slow blink of an eye, the depth of colors in a pupil, the toffees of you, unfiltered, unhesitating, uncovered to discover the landscape of you in the hazy hot and humid…

I think it is in the break of you upon me, a moon-tide upon rocks, a splinter into skin, and the collapse against me like the heat and haze giving way to a summer storm that breaks apart in a day, tearful, regretful, dampening the starch white into a depressing gray…the departure of you, yet again, as it continues to be just another endless stream of days…in the hazy hot and humid…