A Touch Of This Gravity (New Poem)

So, in between the Homage posts, I thought I would post my newest piece of writing. Again, it's meant to be spoken, but I think it's still worth reading. It's romancey. I dunno what's gotten into me.
I was on a bus ride home from Toronto. I'd just said goodbye to a wonderful lover. People all around me on the bus were touching, snuggling, and coo-cooing all around me. Touches are magical things.
Anyway....


Im fascinated how the simple brushing of bodies
morphs into a tool of love—
an adze, a sketch of skin, a flimsy
momental friction laced with everything
lovers need not say to one another.

A touch becomes his touch, her touch
your loveliest of touches.
We become kittens for it.
We stay up all night pining for it, we adore it—
we store it in our chests and it becomes the
very language of this adoration.
We save our most special finger dances
for the brows of our most exhalted—
kiss the napes of bodies so salted by
short breaths, and in each small sweat
our two bodies become
valted in one another.

These moments are simple magic,
extracting miniature lightning strikes
that light us up like matches.
A touch of this gravity can cast bluish shadows upon my heart.
It follows me through every single part
of my journey.
It stays within the brightest banks of me and
I am a fiend for the deepest forest of it.

And so
a touch like this can be a dangerous city
for a heart like mine to visit—
for when the touch is gone like a ghost
the touch becomes
1000 times more exquisite.

When it passes, each time,
I bind my hands
for
just
a
minute.

And pay respect for lovers lost enough
just to give it.