In the Sand

I try to fight it,
to stop these thoughts that enter my mind.
These thoughts which dance happily,
without guilt,
over that line drawn in the sand.

I try to fight it,
the ache that grows deep within my gut.
This ache wants nothing but to dance again,
without care,
over that line drawn in the sand.

To feel that warmth consume me,
to hear that heartbeat against my own,
the trembling hands and breath,
the hesitation

To know that passion that is not shown,
that which cowers beneath the stoic facade,
yet burns from out of the blue
into me

I try to fight it,
to stop the scintillating dreams of the night.
These dreams which dance poeticly,
without remorse,
over that line drawn in the sand.

I try to fight it,
the waves which engulf and threaten to drown.
These waves which dance
with a whimper,
over that line drawn in the sand.

To feel that fire burn within,
to hear my own sighs echoing,
the glistening wonderment, two as one,
an unending song

To know the fulfillment of that dream,
the beauty of caressing souls,
moving as one in a dance over that line drawn
in the sand.