Halfway between memorizing the topography of your skin --
This hillock of knee, those winding roads of your arms,
The raised veins like rivers at the confluence of your wrist,
I feel my heart flutter, like a white flag waving
Over the battlements of my last doubts.

So this is what happens when the mirage takes hold,
And the phantom fantasy comes to life;
When the whole of love opens wide:
I enter with eyes closed and heart open,
Ready for the thrill and kill of desire

But these hands are whispering promises
I am half-afraid to keep.
Your hand slides over mine in a clumsy pas de deux
And I open my eyes again and smile,
Watching the lightning flash of awareness
Catch fire in your eyes.

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