Inch by inch
Skin, hair, tenderness—
my love is touching you.
You are no longer
an imaginary happiness,
now you are my permanent bliss,
the open air where I lose to win.
You say, count to ten and find me,
and I start looking for you.
I ask, are you there,
and you come out of your hideout laughing,
with yourself in the background,
wrapped in a new scent,
a different nakedness.