It calls to me,
the curve of your shoulder,
the rise of your chest,
the flare of your hands,
the indent of your hip.
It calls to me
with a deep thrumming
through my bones
in a way that is
impossible to ignore
when you are near.
Maybe the day will come
when my body does not
meld perfectly to yours,
curve answering curve,
these essential echoes
brought to stillness
when the distance is closed.
Maybe one day this will not
feel
so unequivocally right.