Frisson

His face eats the light and I am in awe.

My sweat becomes musk if he is within three feet.
My laugh becomes a hiccupping snort when he jokes~
The drum solo underneath my breast plate
Feels like a rocket launch under my skin.
I would kill for a glass of water that did not evaporate

Upon touching the inside of my hot mouth.

His hair drips onto his neck and I fight not to scoop it up

And lick my fingers so

I drop something, everything, every time our eyes meet.
My stupid eyelids flop like dying fish whenever he says my name

The sound of my knee caps clanking awkwardly

reminds me of the creepy cymbal playing monkey doll

A constant betrayal of noises, even my smile weighs

One million tons~

I would die instantly from fright if he ever said, “How are you?”

Instead of just nodding at my name tag

and fading away into a day dream like a soft glowing remnant

of a wild girl’s wilder imagination…WAIT! My God, the coldest shiver~

Is he reading this over my shoulder?