01
Oct
12

The skin beneath my fingertips

Her skin

Rises

To my touch,

As goosebumps

Grow

Beneath my fingertips

And hair stands

In expectation.

 

Breaths

Become shorter

And faster.

Skin

Becomes flush

With color

And warm

To the touch.

Beads of sweat

Run

Down her neck

And down

To her chest.

 

The smell

Of her

Fills

My nostrils,

As I breathe

Her

In-

Deeper

Into me.

 

As permanent

As any

Memory,

And as real

As any

Heartbreak.

Deep

In my skin,

Like another

Tattoo,

But more

Lasting

And more

Vivid.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

October 1, 2012

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