I’m cold.

So long cold
and then:
you stand before me –
me and not me and oh so us.
I wrap my arms around
reaching under your jacket
right to grasp left forearm
at the small of your back,
and resting my chin
at that indecipherable place where your shoulder
turns gently into your neck.
My shoulders collapse
smaller and more feminine so
that your shoulders can enfold me
us
and I borrow your heat.
I can feel the gentle whisk of your stubble
against my temple and then lower
on my cheek and my ear
against my neck,
as you bow your head to me
to us
to
.
I can feel your hands grasp each other
behind my back in silent prayer
each perfect finger entwined together tight,
as I feel your lips touch that indescribable place
where my neck meets my shoulder;
and our thighs kiss.

Has there ever been a hug so perfect as ours?