The Architect--poem

I have some ideas-
some delicious estimations-
I can imagine your eyes,
how smoky they are in the dimmer lights
while you gaze at me and I can see
how you want…well…
then there is your hands-
they are strong, they are my protection-
you hold my passion
(one day my heart)
within them-
I cannot forget your lips-
they taste bittersweet, making me crave
their firm determination paralysing me
holding me to the floor while I savour my
imprisonment-you arms embellish my need
and hedonist desire to feel as though
the world has halted in honour of this
blissful embrace-
have I told you what story my eyes would tell
if you let me look into yours,
and stop time from disturbing
the exchange-my hands would paint
a picture of a situation, tableau, scene,
whatever the hell you’d want to name
this entanglement-my lips would speak
breathe and sing the secrets
boiling beneath my skin,
anxious to escape and offer a taste of
the True Hunger-
my arms would mesh
wrap warmth around you hold you to my heart
so you can hear it beat, pulse, throb,
making my blood rush, revealing the truth,
numbing my body, so I can only whisper
the epitome of this moment-
the sum of all my craving-
I know you will feel the same,
just one question, love-
because I’d be willing to give you
the ecstasy I yearn-
what are you waiting for?