hovered round
your stolidity
and my mischief
breathless waiting
boundless despair
no stone unturned,
so I give in to
perpetual pin-pointing
as I grovel for
that smug twitch
or a sudden touch.
Me growing old,
You going cold.
People died today
somewhere in Italy
and all I could think of
was your hand on my thigh.
may, 2012
Vezilka 
Oh wow. I loved how personal this is but at the same time the choice of imagery used can make it potentially speak to a lot of people, even those who have persuasions different from yours. Thank you for a graceful, albeit syncopated ride. Loved the title too. 🙂
Thank you for reading and for such an elaborate comment. It’s always wonderful to hear an opinion from someone who reads your poems for the first time. I do hope you’ll stick around 🙂
Most definitely! Stay inspired.
loved this piece when you wrote it..love it still now..the way you draw your reader into one imagery frame of mind and then transport them to something else whilst still leaving traces of the meaning to look back and go ‘hold on a sec’..wonderful work…
Thank you Shehzar, your comments are always a treasure!