If it weren't for that perfect fit

breasts to my chest;

if it weren't for those perfect lips

mine to yours

I'd not be so in love with you.
 

If it weren't for your flower-petal voice

those summer breeze yearning eyes

my summer heart

would not have blossomed so.


Absent my throbbing center

and yours matching

we'd not have sailed

to ecstasy's edge

but we did;

such that without even touching

we evinced

this and plunged over.
 

So speak to me in my Bed's Night

imagination plump

remembering,

fantasy blended

till

there is no separating

dream and the real;

this is perfection's tip
penetrating.

Breathing me and I you

lungs filled with

that perfect mix-

ecstasy

remembering

and dreaming you-

is all any person needs
because bodies

make no subtle

distinctions

between Dreams and the Real

in the wee

three am hours.