I strike a match—
a flicker.
Possibility crackles in the air;
a spark
dances between us
before the flame catches.
Eyes meet.
Heat rises—
a silent pulse,
a force older than the sun
pulls us in.
My breath catches.
Inches feel like miles
just before
the touch of fingertips
or the brush of lips,
the space between
heavy with the scent
of desire—
a breath held,
on the edge
of touch.