the Aching Pose

White curtains sway from the gentle breeze.
A flowery scent that brings an old feeling.

Sitting on my knees.
On a bed dressed in milky sheets.
Each hand set stilly, upon each thigh.

Nude in my incomplete beauty.

Body, curving as many paths. Yet tiny and fragile.
Skin, pigmented unlike the moon. Influenced by the sun.
Hair, mildly untamed. Shining in it's earthen tone.
Eyes, chocolate spheres. Dark unknown tunnels.

Water spills over and slides smoothly down my face.
With slow precision, I move into the fetal position.

Your hands slide down my arms.
Curving the same as I, into the aching pose.
Head gently rested upon my back.

You hold me this way.