Shadow of Desire

     There is a feeling inside me, darting around quicker than I can contain it with words. An ineffable, ephemeral emotion nesting somewhere behind the upset of my stomach, fluttering through my breath and tingling my arms, it tickles my tongue flirting and vanishing like gypsy silk before I can name it.
     It may be a passion. It may be a passion to touch and to hold that which is not mine. It may be that unspoken wish to feel the faerie touch of her breath against my neck or to hear the flutter of hear eyelashes. A tremble in dream of pulses synchronizing, becoming one.
     It may be a fear. It may be a fear to jump from safe and secure ground into the space of chance. A shiver-thrill of anticipation at risk in the lands of wooing and courting, like the one just about to set foot on the dance floor after idle years questioning his memory of the steps and rhythm.
     It may be energy entrapped. It may be energy screaming against the bond I have restrained it in, wishing to seize life and love with an awful fury, caution thrown to the aerial tides for a life lived through blood, tears, and laughter. If we must, it cries, let us claw away each other's skin until we can ascend as one. Cast off rationale and empty reasonings and let us pursue temptation till we are fatted upon its marrow.

     It may be the shadow of my desire.

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