So I seem to write a lot of these...
I got some great experience for this, sitting by a fountain in Boston library in the quiet... Yup..

Poam © Me

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My Only Weekend Plans

I hope you know that I hate you, whenever we're apart:
whenever my skin isn't wove on yours, under each thumb.
The tempo beat of my breath grows with each button pop,
each second of denim creak, cotton rubbing – waiting,
body standing on end as cloth gives in to the finger's demand.

And please, please my lover; how I plead for lower, longer.
Begging for tongue to throat, for teeth gloating, grazing slightly
my left ear: Morse Code for 'I want you', holding me there
in that one inch whisper. Oh gods, watch it tremble through me;
see how my legs dance to your heart beat, toes curling sheets.

'I love you here and here and here' fingernails scribe to skin -
bicep, ribs, hip. My muscles caressed into shallow breath panting,
lips taking lead on my clavicle, clarinetting 'Please don't stop',
your third symphony. And Act 4 opens to our buckle clicks, zip,
and bare desire: chorus, rising like steam, 'Oh please don't stop.'

Whining those words to each tug, each back arch and hip roll:
miming 'Kiss me everywhere', crystal-eyed, lips oh-shaped
with each tongue kiss, hot air groaning 'Allegro Allegro Accelerando.'
It touches us religious; minds held in oh god feral yowls, all wolf howl
and whinny – unleashed things, a lesson in food chain,
untamed.