but this feeling is liquid like the red 1
of blood oranges, 2
and I can’t explain it because I can’t wrap my mind 3
around what’s 4
sunk into the citrus floor of my skin, 5
and it’s like sediment settled there at the bottom. 6
And this is an accidental fascination, 7
one that causes my fingers to shake, 8
desperate to erase the drowsy 9
dark weight of you and me, 10
but it’s so intoxicating that crush of tangerine 11
that bursts between those same fingertips. 12
So it’s an orange explosion of wings from my stomach 13
out through my back when your eyes follow me across the 14
floor and I can do nothing to break the gaze that traces me 15
so I step, and step, and step away, 16
backing up and trying to fend off 17
the feelings under the lashes of your eyes that 18
I’m not sure are real or imagined, 19
because its such a dangerous emotion 20
that is spurned by that same dark look in your eyes 21
an emotion that has 22
taken root like green vines in blue vein form 23
along base of my hearts walls, 24
suffocating me but providing oxygen, 25
life through red blood cells and touch, 26
a kind of touch that rushes to 27
explode on top of 28
lips that blush with the anticipated kiss 29
but unexpected crush of lips, 30
and it makes me dizzy from the burst in it. 31
And that dizzy is the kind of dizzy that floods 32
my head till I can’t think straight without seeing double and its 33
the kind of dizzy that saturates the space after 34
blood is drained from veins, and 35
the kind of dizzy that creeps over my eyes in dark fingertips 36
when I stand up too fast, 37
the kind of dizzy that explodes across skin, taking dizzy 38
to a whole new, soul consuming level that happens only 39
with you! 40
and with you, touch causes 41
the orange wings of butterflies in my stomach to 42
crash in a frenzied flurry of static stress, 43
till they drop from shock and 44
when air is sucked in sweet to revive those bright fallen beings, 45
the oxygen bites hard against my throat, 46
and pulls you in close too, till 47
it’s just that final breathe between us, 48
that final thin line that marks the stretch of just how 49
close you’ll come before you, too, step away, 50
and just how quick that single citric breath could bring 51
you that much closer, and I’m so tempted to 52
step and fill the space myself but I have resist 53
because what happens if I let happen, that one 54
bitter and sweet, intangible yet tangible, tangle of lips?
