Salve

Anoint me.

Rub upon me...the you that penetrates my pores and ingests into my bloodstream.  Clamor upon me...your chaos and your peace...your diatribes and your possessions.

Push me into you...you into me.

Thrust into me...leave your mark upon me, the bruise, the crease, the wrinkle.  The suck mark...the hickey.  Leave evidence that you were here...upon me.

Fill in the crannies...the nooks...fill me like heated butter and bubble and crest.

Be silent and let your proximity tell me the words.

Rub me into you...let me hear the stutter in your breathing...the building.  Let me find the rhythm and the righteousness.

Let me be your new religion...let me be your kneel-down.

Explore me...devour me.  Take me and let me simply align.  Alongside.  Inside.

The slight weight of you...the delicateness...the sense of an arm and a leg...intertwined...the way a mattress feels beneath us...all the sensory inputs I can gather...let me gather.

Let the simple gesture of your finger upon me trigger a reflex...trigger firestorms...hurricanes...kinetics.  Blood moons.

And let the sweet sensory dessert of you glaze me in an evening...let you lay upon me like an evening lotion...designed to attract...and in that urging let me find what I am attracted to most.

The you...the salve of things that calm me...make me better...make me beautiful.