Where you touched me–silk,
the milk of our desire,
yoked yearning from the ilk:
heart–they called it fire–
the infinity of which might host
ashen fractions of the passion, sired
by a touch, a look unseen by most
unbound by sea or land–
the knowing when I sleep
you breathe beside this silent hand,
and I am no stranger, too far, too deep.
The Waking Den 
this is sensitively sensual serene…and intimate…love it chris
Like the little rhyme play I must say and an emotional entanglement that’s such a sensual delight too.
nice…love the flow of your verse chris…and the intimate moment…the laying beside and feeling hte breathe on your hand…love that…lyricl write man…
This is so good, Chris. I love the rapid flow. The opening is my favorite:
“Where you touched me–silk,
the milk of our desire”
i love the melody of your flow, your verse sings in a beautiful wave of flawless rhyme, almost unnoticed… nice.
mine
http://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/2012/01/24/freezing-pain/
Love the intimacy in this piece, beautiful!
Sighing like a lovers’ breeze over this one, Chris. Last line goes straight to the heart–being a stranger is so wearying–no place for it where this poem goes.
“ashen fractions of the passion, sired
by a touch” hot, hot, hot Chris…pure passion.
your piece budded like a flower
This was very nice and sensual.
Very much enjoyed this exploration of proximity.. or love.. or understanding… the first and last lines are total pleasure and seal the pact. Finely done Chris.
The finest writing regarding the finest kind of intimacy. Well done, sir!
I enjoy your work. A Beautiful piece. You are obviously comfortable with your craft. As always, thanks for sharing..
So well-crafted. It has an equilibrium and flow that makes it seem almost as one thought. Nicely done
Love this write Chris, the opening lines with the embedded rhyme carries so beautifully when read aloud. Wonderful flow to this piece, hope you are well my friend, all my best to you! ❤ ~ Rose
This is the kind of feel I like for rhyming poetry. The rhythm is not dictated by the rhyme and it makes the read more like wet bamboo- strong and flexible with a relaxed natural beauty- and less like a blacksmith’s hammering in the middle of the night.
Nice one.