Sometimes,
when I think of touching,
your skin against mine,
the quivering air just between
my hand and your bare arm,
I feel somehow different.
I feel the grandness of the moment -
the yes, the please, the yes -
and I am compelled, driven,
to the edge of -
Come to me next time, tomorrow,
or stay, please, tonight or forever.
You are my glimpse into -
Sometimes,
I think of the moment
our lips, or the moment our skin,
and that night when we -
Sometimes I run out of words.



I don't know who recommended this for the front page, but this is what they had to say: "Scott writes the most beautiful love poetry, and is one of the best authors on the site, in my opinion." I'd have to say they have impeccable taste. I've been reading your work for going on 4 years now, Scott (June will be 4 years since I joined). You just keep gettin' better, my Friend. Beautifully penned, Scribe. Congrats on your shiny chalice.













43 old applause
