Foggy Bliss

This poem is part of a short ten poem collection I put together title "Fantasy."

The warmth of his breath

teases me, it

fogs my mind.

The taste of his heartbeat

on my rain-soaked lips

taunts my taste buds as I shakily inhale.

I can hear time’s beating clock

in every cold, falling

drip, drop, drip, drop.

Fingers shaking,

hesitation,

a fleeting touch.

Listening to what the eyes speak,

doubts race, then flee.

Then,

bliss.