Geometry of Nature and Imagination

Sometimes, just the upper curve of your breast – the shadow diving down , deepening – is enough to drive me mad for you. The upper curve describes the lower, the full circle being repeated in the areola, the nipple, concentric rings like ripples on the surface of a pond revealing a disturbance deeper down,

and the disturbance is in my body, in the sunless depths of my desire, so profound and moving that it creates you here with me, so full in my fantasies that it seems as if I could reach out, fingertips trembling, and trace that perfect curve –

Sometimes, it is the diagonal line created by your thigh – the graceful angle of elevation from knee to beneath the taut hem of your skirt and beyond – that I cannot stop my lustful gaze from following. Even beyond the line of sight my imagination follows that thigh and its partner,

their joining together like the peak of a mountain, final point of full clarity where more is revealed than even my obsession could conceive, and my whole body aches with arousal at the thought of that so-perfect intersection –

Sometimes, it is the ellipse defined by your lips, barely parted – the teasing reveal of tongue, tip slipping slyly from focus to focus – the way it strips away irrelevancies of time and place, of both our bodies and the distance between them. Somehow, all is drawn to its inevitable event horizon,

or to its twin parting below, the gravitational pull so great it attracts me before the slightest reveal has been made, longing to join with its sweet singularity, become one body, one soul, one shape striving onward for timeless, inescapable bliss.