November

I stand so close to you,
Bundled in the chill of your touch.
Although physical, intellect storms above the horizon.

We've undressed ourselves.
Helpless to the fingertips that tiptoe into an orgasmic convulsion,
Peering into our inter most thought.
The heat goes away, leaving us a by product of what's to come.

A thesaurus of emotion you and I.
Left to wither alone.
Longing to call this place home.
Giving up the instinct of predator and prey.
Beckoning to exist.

Bundled up in the thrill of your thought.
I become cold.
Frostbitten.
Lost in the artic chill that provokes every shiver