Tormentation, thy name is love.

You close your hand
I close my eyes.
I can feel it.
"What is it?" you ask,
But it cannot be explained.
Not by any words
That the seamstress could
Weave, spin, and sew.
My heart is in my throat
Your hand is on my back.
Can you feel my pulse rise?
Can you feel my throat writhe?
Do you know how this world spins?
How dizzy I get from the simplest
Touch of thine hand.
The sweet nectar from thine lips
It keeps me alive, keeps my heart
Lodged in my throat.
It's the only time I know that I'm
Alive. Loved. Adored.