A Body of Lust

A a a a a a

The white sands of my chest, caressed 

Your hands are stirring like an ocean 

I feel you crash on over me 

You bathe me with your heavenly waters

and I am tortured by the tragedy

of you receding

Everywhere, in everything... every little

nook and cranny; there is urgency

and the sounds of the sea 

Wild, disturbed, there is no sleep

for the shore saturated 

with this disease 

Habitual agony,

no release