There are times when he looks at me,
Really looks at me, into me,
With his eyes he deciphers,
The colors of my soul,
With his heart he knows there's more.
There are times when he touches me,
Reads my body like brail,
Each and every goose-bump,
Telling a brand new tale.
There are times when he breathes me in,
Every scent, every smell,
A medley of sweat, sex and soul,
A unique but potent spell.
There are times when he tastes me,
A taste he now knows well,
A palette that hungers, as my lips begin to swell,
He traces his tongue over every curve and bend,
A connoisseur swirling fine wine,
Considering this bodied blend.
There are times when he hears me,
Truly listens,
Not just to my words but to my thoughts,
My emotions, my every breath,
Even when I can not understand or explain,
He finds a way to decipher my mental hell.
There are times I mistake,
His knowledge, acceptance and
Inherent connection with "The Self",
As arrogance or over confidence,
Or lacking in realism,
But each and every time he centers me,
Brings me back to the Now,
I'm reminded of what it is to live and love well.
