Breathing

Workdays have an added dimension,
Restless thoughts fly back and forth
Gentle pressure, applied so well
Has brought forth a sigh from deep within
That manifests through the day
Like a gnawing hunger for something sweet
And she has to cross her legs again
Her heart quickening
As an echo of touch is felt once more.

The screen blurs;
She scarcely noticed what was on there
As she catches her breath
Remembering a surrender into strong hands,
A decision to not make decisions,
The closing of eyes, falling back
Not sure if she would be caught
Or if the world would swallow her up whole,
As limitless and dark as the tiny pit of fear,
Which is known by some as desire,
That has made its presence quietly known since she was a young girl.

Then, in an instant, she is back,
The screen is clear,
As is the mind,
Laughing to herself about Basinger and Rourke
And stories of O’s
And other letters of the alphabet.

Her legs are still crossed.