In My Bed, Half A World Away

We are a strange strain of pen-pals. We've known each other for what is my forever.
My darling I was lifeless until I met you, and like a baby you delivered me. I kiss your feet.
I can hear your desire in the words you pen. My fingerprints feel your heat radiating from each consonant and vowel. Your heart whispers between the commas.
We leave our sentences open-ended, unwilling to use punctuation that implies finality.
I cannot sleep as a malady in my blood builds unbearably. It is tortuous and overwhelming. It hurts so completely, and I succumb to it's sweetness.
I sort carefully through your paper devotion, every postmark and page a declaration of your reverence and passion, tangible affirmation that I truly exist.
I can recite every lovely verse, the gospel of adoration and supplication with which you honor me. I inhale your essence and press you to my lips. You are here now. You are present.
Tonight, my pillow is you. I smother you, I crush you, I cry on you. Do you sense this from half a world away? Can you smell my perfume?
I become my mirror image as your hand guides mine into territory no one else is allowed. You placed the No Trespassing sign there yourself, and I lovingly tend the primroses around it. My children.
I am no longer me, I am us. Your breath and king of the jungle purrs, your silent requests slide across continents to sear my neck, scorch my thoughts and fill my ears. I begin to respond. Quickly.
Towards the wall I turn a photograph. Gladly. Happily. Sadly, it cannot remain this way. Before morning it will return to its place in the dust.
My bedclothes are yours to do with as you like. A satin strap slides off my shoulder, little buttons are removed from tiny tight button holes, the edge of a flounce is lifted, the sheet disappears. My knees become distant, a rush of cool air and the swaying of my body begins.
I beg you to please go slow, to make the moment last, to savor the shivering skin that shines like a silver bell. But the need to kiss and clutch and knead is too acute, and my guided hand ignores my plea. Savoring is not what you want, you take me from half a world away.
My God, how I love you my dearest.
Whimpering with want, sighing with release I give you ever ounce of my sweat and joy. You always reply in kind.
Outside, the moon waxes and wanes as the clock ticks and the seasons flow, but the calendar never changes. I won't allow the expiration of paradise.
Our yearnings will never cease. Our cravings will forever blend like rainbow colors and drip on canvas. Our gallery will forever be gloriously over-crowded, but there will always be room enough for the next masterpiece in my bed, from half a world away.
