When she speaks...

When she speaks...

When she speaks, sometimes i just close my eyes, close my eyes tight. Keep them shut, so tight as if to block out all light. More like an absence of light, thus reflecting one less sense. Dividing up now between the four, letting me see her sonic complexities when she speaks. Sometimes i just close my eyes and extend my hands palms up carrying no weight. No weight of gravity, floating absent of touch. Numb without the tingle, thus reflecting one less sense. Dividing up now between the three allowing to feel the ricochet pin prick when she speaks. Sometimes i just close my eyes, extend my hands palms up, and pause my breath, not through my mouth but the nose. Stiffeling her natural pheromone rising from her pores like a naked steam bath. A pinched clothespin blocking the scent, thus reflecting one less sense. Dividing up now between the two allowing the spicy, mysterious aroma of when she speaks. Sometimes i just close my eyes, extend my hands palms up, pause my breath, and lock my tongue against my palette trapping a tasteless layer of saliva. Only leaving enough to wet my lips if needed for soft, sweet kiss thus reflecting one less sense. With only one sense remaining i just close my eyes, extend my hands palms up, pause my breath, lock my tongue and just listen when she speaks...

~S