I do not know you.
For when I see you,
it is by the merest flicker of candlelight
dancing along the edges of your skin,
ignorant of the depths of your curves;
when I hear you,
it is only the quietest whisper
that hides between the sheets of a midnight tryst
wishing for the timbre of a boisterous afternoon guffaw;
when I touch you,
it is reminiscent of a polite museum visitor
who wistfully desires to more fully experience
the magnificent grain and texture of every frozen moment;
when I breath you in,
it is a fragrance that teases me,
like rich spices wafting through the air
promising a meal that always leaves me hungry for more;
when I kiss you,
it is a sweet and salty hors d’oeuvre
lacking the depth of palate of the ocean
that I can feel in your arms as they try to drag me under.
I do not know you;
not the feeblest shadow of a shadow of your radiance
but I look forward to learning – with earnest, attentive enthusiasm.