November

I stand so close to you,
bundled in the chill of your touch.
Though physical, intellect storms above the horizon.

We’ve undressed ourselves,
helpless to the fingertips that tiptoe
into an orgasmic convulsion,
peering into our innermost thought.
The heat fades
leaving us a byproduct of what’s to come.

A thesaurus of emotion, you and I,
left to wither alone,
longing to call this place home.
Giving up the instinct of predator and prey,
beckoning to exist.

Bundled up in the thrill of your thought,
I become cold
frostbitten,
lost in the arctic chill
that provokes every shiver.