Wine or Reality

I don’t know if you are real

or if the wine brought

you to me.

Tiny scratches across my skin

tickle me with memories

of a five o’clock shadow,

and whispers.

Can a phantom leave

my skin warm,

 my heart thumping,

kiss swollen lips?

 If this is fantasy,

 why do my fingers

long to touch broad shoulders,

cling to muscular arms,

 run my fingers

through dark hair?

Somewhere in the fog

I remember brown eyes

drawing me into their depth,

stripping me of inhibitions.

I bloomed under large hands

resuscitating emotions

I  thought would never

arise from the tomb

I had buried them in.

 If only the wine created you,

may I drown in dreams,

drink from unreality,

and feel my flesh reborn

from its sensual baptism.

©Susie Clevenger

Fireblossm at Real Toads challenged us

to write about bodies. This is my body offering.