brushed love.

two halves to a whole; a love poem to to speak. short.

Your abdomen brushes
against the sensitive skin
on the small of my back
with a light air of tenderness.

I realize with an inward gasp
that the air pocket between
our cold naked skin
is far too much;

my body and your meet
somewhere in the middle
and soon enough
we are pressed to each other;

two halves of a whole.