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What are we going to do about this
unresolved sexual tension
ever since our first conversation
the chemistry between us has been
off the chain

I can practically feel your
hands on my body
taste the many hues of your soul
on my tongue
I’ve been living in this
electrified state of want for months
and I can only guess about
what you feel
but it can’t be so far off from this

when I see you
I’m going to stand in front of you
as close as humanly possible
and let gravity do the rest

or I may probably be
too intimidated to even
say your name out loud
you tell me you’re just a man
but that’s the thing:
you’re a man
the way that many members of the
male species aren’t

I’m so high on you
so addicted
my thoughts and my movements
my life and my everything
the sterling silver charms
around my right wrist
and the splotchy red blush on my neck
are contaminated
adulterated
amalgamated with a sensuality
that knowing you has perpetrated
so naturally
on my personality
and my poetry

from the outside
you can watch me
I’m still the impeccable
no-nonsense lady
walking down the street in even strides
by day
high heels clicking
always in a hurry
hailing cabs
getting in and out of cars
and elevators
nodding good morning at the reception
conquering the world

by evening
in Italian trattorias
in Japanese machiai
or in late-night cafés
cross-legged
and slashing at my laptop’s keys
trying to beat a writing deadline
oblivious of the world
an untouchable, imperturbable
universe

I can pull that off
without showing any hint that
what keeps me going
is from within:
this fire that burns
wanting you
smoldering, red-hot
shouting for release
ready to explode

the only sign
is in my feisty eyes
sharp like those of a tigress that
no man can handle looking at
for longer than four seconds without
striking insecurity in their loins
and that makes all of them
lesser men
than you.
.

.

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