boredom or drunkenness.
Anytime we need that connection
we reach that hand out
waiting for another's touch.
Fingers and tongues
loosen their restraint
like belts unfastening.
The words tumble clumsily,
falling down teeth onto
the tongue and slurred out.
Overt emotional overtures
are the modus operandi
to these late night confessions.
In private company there is always
a moment of hesitation, awkwardness
before that touch, that kiss.
Passionate discourse warms the skin,
makes the face glow, perspire, caressing
hands and soft moans warp time.
It becomes an intoxication without end,
more nights, more desperate overtures
to sate an endless hunger.
We reach out in our loneliness
hoping to find a cure.
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